New Year, New Me
by Rhian0000
Summary: "In the end, we only regret the chances we didn't take, the relationships we were afraid to have, and the decisions we waited too long to make." - Lewis Carroll. Bella feels the need for a fresh start as a new year dawns. It's time to step out of her comfort zone and live life to the full. But life is never simple, and there will be hurdles in her way. Bella and Edward, AU, AH.
1. Chapter 1

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 1**

I am sobbing. Literally, bawling my heart out. My chest hurts and my face is wet with tears and feels swollen. I'm finding it difficult to breathe.

I have made a mistake. I knew this would end badly, but I did it anyway. Isabella Swan; the masochist. I have just finished reading _Me Before You_. I knew it would end badly, but this ending threw me sideways and kicked me in the stomach. The climax came around so quickly, and not in the way I expected, so I found myself in a state of shock. It was awful. It was brilliant.

Yes, I am that distraught over a work of fiction. I am so consumed by it that I carry it with me for a couple of days, thinking about it, playing on my mind even as I sleep. Two days later the notion properly hits me – what the actual fuck? Why the hell am I so emotional about a book? Will Traynor, the male lead, was certainly right about something – you only get one life and it's your duty to live it as fully as possible.

Now, don't get me wrong, I have a pretty good life. I have a loving family, friends, interesting vacations, and a decent job. I have my health and I love my apartment. But there is one obvious gap – a man. I have been single forever. I like being single; I like my own space and my peace of mind. Some sex would definitely be nice though, and filling that gap with fictional heroes isn't going to get me anywhere. I won't find _my_ Jamie Fraser if I never put myself out there. Yes, I am an _Outlander_ fan.

I haven't dated in a long time. I'm not sure why; I'm not bad looking, and I take care of myself. I'm a confident sort, but I guess I've been shy when it comes to men. I have 'no' programmed as my default position when I get asked out, which isn't all that often. I always thought that I'd meet someone without trying, that I'd happen upon 'the one' in the normal course of my life, but that hasn't happened. Things don't usually – without effort. As I've gotten older, with the big three-oh on the horizon this year, I've found it more difficult to meet new people. Even more difficult to meet new, interesting, and good looking people.

My friend Alice met her boyfriend online. She thinks online dating is replacing the old ways of meeting people. We've talked about it a lot, and I've thought about trying it out someday. Maybe today is the day. It would be a good way to meet new people. Even if it's just a date, it's a lot more excitement than I've had in a while. What harm would it do?

I get out my cell and do some Googling. According to a blog I've found on the best US dating sites, eHarmony is the best. But it sounds pretty intense. The blog says, "It is worth paying for a good subscription on eHarmony to have the highest level of functionality. Remember, your dating life, just like your career, is an investment that will pay off in the end with enough patience and diligence." _Nope!_ I think.

I scroll down and the next best is Match, a "heavyweight that's been around a while and has good functionality" apparently. I have a look at their site. It's interesting, but annoyingly you can't read that much about how it works before you sign up. I like their tag line, #loveyourimperfections; I can buy into that. Imperfections are character after all. I vaguely remember a _Saturday Night Live_ spoof and head to You Tube to check it out. I find a video with Kate McKinnon as Martha Stewart and have a good laugh. _Stop procrastinating_ , I tell myself.

There is free sign up so I've nothing to lose. I download the app. I go through the usual process, making a profile. I start with photos. I think it will be easy because I haven't long returned from a vacation so will have plenty of photos to choose from, but it turns out when you look at your vacation pics from a perspective of wanting to please a prospective date, you become quite a bit pickier. I select a few, trying to get some different angles and some tongue-in-cheek ones, to show them I have a sense of humor. My favorite is me sitting in the mouth of an alligator statue when I went to the swamp in New Orleans. It looks like he's eating my butt.

 _What am I going to say for my profile?_ This feels like a lot of pressure. More pressure than that report I have to complete for work. There, I know who I am, and what I want, and usually how to get it. This is uncharted territory. _How do I sell myself as a good date? Do I even want to sell myself?_

I research a little more and take a look at some profiles. I wish I could see the profiles of other girls. There are some hot men on here to be fair. The smaller stuff is easier, especially when they're asking a question. So I start there and answer the drop down questions.

 **Children:** None.

 **Do I want children?** This sucks; the only answers I can select are definitely, maybe, and no. I do definitely want kids, but I'm not ready for that now. I'm looking for a drink, maybe a dinner date. Saying I want kids here might read the wrong way. I go for _maybe,_ but I am dissatisfied, because it's just not true.

 **Relationship Status:** Never married.

 **Smoking:** No, smoke is a problem.

 **Ethnicity:** White/caucasian.

 **Education:** Bachelor's degree.

 **Imperfection:** I'm sure there are many, but which best suits me? The list is long, some things inane, and some deeper. I guess being stubborn is the one that best describes me. I'm not pig-headed, but I am tenacious.

 **I think marriage is…:** Tricky, like the 'do I want children' question, options are limited again. I go for _not necessary_. I am conflicted about marriage. Part of me is still the little girl who wants to dress up in a white dress; another is a grown woman in the modern world, and I'm not sure how relevant marriage is in today's society. My dad divorced my birth mom, Renee, when I was a baby. They didn't work out, for a number of reasons. My dad told me once that a part of him still loved her, and I saw his eyes glaze over like he was lost for a moment – my taciturn and stoic father, emotional in our little kitchen back in Forks. I guess the moment stuck with me. Then again, when you get it right, marriage can be great. My dad married Sue when I was little. I don't really remember her not being there. I call her mom too.

 **How do you feel about meeting someone new?** Let's see what happens.

 **Body Type:** Slim.

 **Appearance:** I was wrong; this is so hard! _Attractive_ , I select. Cringe. But I'll just look needy if I say I'm not, and whom will that attract? Why do I have to answer this question anyway? They can make up their own minds from my photos.

 **Eyes:** Phew, some easy ones, _brown_.

 **Hair Length:** Long.

 **Hair Color:** Brown.

 **Height:** 5'5.

 **Romance:** I have to say _romantic_ with my Goodreads lists, I feel.

 **Personality:** Hm, _confident_ , usually.

 **Diet:** I eat everything.

 **My Style:** Classical.

 **I Live:** Alone.

 **Nationality:** US National.

 **Languages:** English.

 **My Pets:** No. Though I dearly wish I could have a dog. I love them, but I'm out all day at work, and it wouldn't be fair.

 **Occupation:** Management.

 **Income:** OMG, they really ask this? I select _I would rather not say_.

 **Religion:** Christian.

 **Practicing Religion:** Non-practicing.

That part is done at least. Wait, I have a message already. And another!

John has sent you a message: _Hi you, how are you finding match? John_

He's not bad looking, not good looking either, if I'm being candid. He's in Seattle and is 39, a little high on the age range for me, but I don't want to be small-minded.

 _Hi John, I have no idea what I'm doing to be honest. Have just this minute signed up. Any tips? Bella_

For some reason it won't let me open the other message. I try a couple of times before I notice the banner telling me I have to sign up to have full access. My curiosity is peaked, and they have me hook, line, and sinker. Luckily, there is a half price offer, only $10.49 a month if I sign up for six months. It seems like a long time, but I don't think it is in the world of dating, so I use my and subscribe.

Jay has sent you a message: _Hi Bella, what's your favorite film?_

My cell rings and takes me by surprise.

"Hi Alice!" I answer the call.

"Bella, what you up to Friday? We're heading to that new restaurant on the waterfront, you in?"

"Yeah, count me in. What is it again?"

"An Italian place, called Bella Italia!" Alice laughs.

"Oh God," I whine. "I guess I have to try it then! I'm hoping to finish work at five if you want to meet from work, get a drink?"

"Let me check" she says. "I don't have any meetings so can probably swing it for around 5. I'll come to you."

"Great. Alice, you'll never guess what I'm in the middle of doing."

"What? Do I actually have to guess?" she asks but doesn't give me time to answer. "Erm, cooking that chicken stew I love? No wait, reading that damn book again? Seriously Bella, it's no good for you. But you're not crying, so maybe not…"

"None of the above, I have just signed up to Match"

"No. Way! Seriously?" She sounds likes she is bouncing, which from past experience she probably is. "What brought this on?"

"I don't know," I say, side-stepping the question. "It just feels like it might be the right time. You know, meet some new people, have some fun."

"Are we talking sexy-time fun?"

"Maybe, I could do with it."

"I know. Bella, I love you dearly but girl, you need to get laid."

"I got two messages already."

"What did they say? Are they hot?"

I briefly give her the run down.

"Don't respond!" she says as if I've done something hideously wrong. "You can't go responding to everyone who messages you. Look at their profile and their photos, and if you don't like them, don't reply."

"That's a little brutal, don't you think?"

"Dating is brutal. There's no point wasting your time, or his, if you're not interested."

"I guess you're right," I concede. "It just feels a little rude."

"Be bold. You're a catch. Hold out. I'm just glad you're dipping your toe. I think it could be fun. Just remember the rules, public place, only a drink or a coffee for the first date – you don't want to be lumbered with a whole meal if you don't like him."

"I know how to be safe, Alice."

"I know you do."

"Good pointer on the drinks, though. Any other pearls of wisdom?" I ask.

"Go with your gut. When it's right, you'll know." She's speaking from experience. She met Jasper a year ago through online dating. I've never liked the saying that someone is your 'other half.' I have always considered myself whole rather than half, but when I look at Alice and Jasper, I get it.

"Okay, see you Friday," I say.

"Wait, before you go. Have you thought about Jake?"

Now that is a question. "Not in detail."

"He's coming Friday. Might be the time to slip it in?"

"Yeah," I reply glibly. "Wait, he's free on a Friday night?" Jake works as a waiter, so is usually working at the weekend.

"Yeah, January is a pretty quiet time. He's got the weekend off."

"Makes sense."

"Don't worry about it, it will be fine. I'll lighten the mood if he gets grumpy," Alice consoles. "See you Friday."

 **Author's Note**

 **Thank you for reading. This is my first time writing a full story, so I would really like to hear what you think of it. I would like to learn from this process so welcome all comments.**

 **Huge thanks to Songster for betaing, particularly for sorting out my punctuation. Thanks to Rhona for pre-reading, and the Twits for encouraging me to write again, you know who you are.**

 **Rhian xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 2**

There is nothing quite like a good view and fresh air to reset your brain. It's been a tough day at work. I enjoy my work most of the time, but today was spent mostly managing my boss's ego. He is such a dick. I am a manager in a recruitment firm downtown called Puget Recruitment. I am responsible for securing and managing client relationships and manage a team of employees who find, support, and match potential candidates to roles. We deal with a lot of high volume recruitment, as well as niche management roles, so it's fast paced and very target driven.

Apart from the travesty that is my boss, James, I have learned a lot in my time there. Victoria, the CEO, is an admirable woman and the main reason I took the role. She's a talented business woman and has given me the opportunity to take on projects and run with them independently. It's the benefit of a smaller company. James gets in the way now and then, but thankfully rarely. I really don't know how he keeps his job.

I had a really early meeting this morning, and I managed to get out of the office in time to see some daylight, so I am out for a run. I take a breather as I watch the sun set over the Puget Sound, and try to be in the moment. Carkeek Park is just a few blocks from my apartment. I think of it as my park.

When I get home, I get my cell out. It's time to say a bit more about myself on Match. I haven't replied to John and Jay. Alice is right, there's no point if I'm not interested. I've had a few messages, but mostly from fat, old, and balding men. I don't like it. I think of myself as non-judgmental; I have friends of all ages, shapes and backgrounds, but it's different when you're thinking about a man. I want someone I find attractive, and I don't think that's too much to ask for in a partner, but it makes me feel shallow.

I have been chatting to a guy called Kevin. He looks quite attractive, and seems keen to meet, so we have a date tomorrow evening at a place not far from my apartment. He wanted to get a meal, rather than drinks, so I'm already breaking the rules.

I start by looking at the next set of questions. For these there is a text box rather than a drop down, so I should be able to show more personality. I am putting off writing a proper add.

 **What I do for fun?** I agonize for a while and then decide to just go for it.

 _I love to travel to far-flung countries, but also enjoy visiting other states and have lots on my list. Next is Texas. I like to cook and bake, too. Spending time with friends and family is important to me._

I am sure I sound just like the next carbon copy. At least they will see from my photos that I have normal eyebrows, and don't pout for pics. Surely, that will be in my favor.

 **My Vacations:** Now this, I can do. _I have just come back from a trip to Europe. I managed to fit in France, Spain, and the UK. Hard to say what I liked more. London from a city perspective: I liked the hustle and bustle, and the red double-decker buses! The art in Paris – I particularly loved the Louvre. The food in Spain was a winner. I am a tapas girl and don't mind the vino either._

I deliberate some more, wondering if I sound snobby, but I am boring myself with all this second guessing, so go on to the next topic. I whizz through favorite things, favorite book, and job, and try to sound interesting.

 **o0o**

I text Alice: _I'll be there in two mins._

It's Friday, and I'm just wrapping up an end of week financial report and send it off. I say goodbye to my team, and head for the door. I can see Alice as I arrive at the reception area. Her brown bob, cut shorter in the back, is as immaculately straight as ever, and she's wearing her signature bright cerise lipstick. She had a work thing last night, so we haven't caught up about my date. I know it's the first thing she'll ask me, and she doesn't disappoint.

We chat on our way to our usual bar. It's a little kitsch place, not far from where I work. It has hardwood flooring, leather chesterfield sofas in various colors, mismatched chairs and candelabras. It has good cocktails and serves snacks, too. Jasper and Jake are joining us later, so we have time to dissect the date, not that there is much to dissect.

"He was nice," I answer. "But as soon as I saw him, I knew I wasn't attracted to him."

"Oh, no." Alice looks sad for me.

"No, it's alright. It was an enjoyable enough evening, some interesting conversation, just no spark. I did have a lovely lamb dish though! We went to this little Persian restaurant. We should go there sometime."

"You're right. It's a definite no when you're more interested in the food," she agrees. "What was it about him you didn't like?"

"It's hard to say, it was just a no. He looked like his photos, but he's quite stern in the photos, and he looks really different when he's animated. I don't know," I dither. "His manner was a bit effeminate, and I guess I don't find that attractive."

"It's the Brendon Fraser thing!" she exclaims.

"It _is_ the Brendon Fraser thing," I agree. We have talked about this a few times. Essentially, I am attracted to character rather than just looks, and how someone holds themselves is apparently really integral to whether I'll like them or not. So, for example, I really like Brendon Fraser in _The Mummy_ (after he's gotten cleaned up), and would gladly jump his bones. But, I am absolutely repulsed by him in _Bedazzled_. I can't even watch that movie.

"I had to coax conversation too; it felt like I was working," I say.

"Then, it's a definite no," Alice agrees. "It should feel natural. I mean, obviously a date is a bit artificial, but you can get past that quickly with the right person."

"Chalk it up to experience. How was last night?"

"Good. Same old, same old – food, speeches, and a free bar." She smiles at that part. "But I had the chance to really talk to this new author we've signed. I think he's got a lot of potential. He was saying how he was stripping back his writing to make the reader work harder, you know; the usual showing rather than telling stuff. But he drew a parallel with his relationship with his girlfriend, how words were cheap and actions speak louder... It's rehashing old ideas, but he made it sound so original, and romantic. I thought to myself, you know emotions, kid. Anyway, I'm rambling."

Alice works in publishing. I'm no expert, but I think she has a great eye. From reading between the lines, I get the sense that she's good at teasing emotion out of authors, and improving their writing as a result. I like hearing her talk about books. That's how we met, at a book club at university.

We chatter about our week for a while until the boys arrive. Jasper has come with a couple of friends from work, so we push two small tables together. Jasper is a psychologist and practices downtown. I imagine it's a tough job, listening to people's problems all day. They like to let off a bit of steam come Friday, and there is plenty of banter. I enjoy myself and feel like I've earned my mojito.

We meet Jake at Bella Italia. Jasper's friends have stayed at the bar. Jokes about my name are abundant, as we settle in to order. It's a nice place with low lighting and a romantic atmosphere that we're cutting right through with our laughter.

I order the carbonara. It's an old favorite of mine, and I'm delighted when it comes with a poached egg on top. Jake has the mushroom ravioli; he's vegetarian. Alice and Jasper are sharing their dishes as always – lobster pizza, and some kind of tomato ragu pasta.

Jake is sitting next to me. We've caught up about the Christmas break already; I spent Christmas with my family in Forks, and he went back to Chicago to see his folks. He is chill, as always, as he tells me about some hiking that he's done at the Olympic National Park. He has some great photos on his cell that he shows me. He has an eye for beauty, does Jake. He appreciates good scenery; it's something we share, though I'm much less inclined to go camping in the freezing cold up a mountain. I think it's nuts.

Alice and Jasper are deep into a debate about a book that they've been reading. Alice always has a strong opinion, given her trade, and Jasper loves to rile her up by playing devil's advocate. It seems a convenient time to tell Jake about dating. At some point in that last few years, it's become clear to me—sometime after it was obvious to everyone else, apparently —that Jake has a soft spot for me. He's never asked me out, or made a move, but it's always there, in the void between us.

"How was your New Year?" he asks.

"Fun, low-key, we had some drinks and lit fireworks in the garden. And you know how good a cook my mom is – the food was yummy."

"Yes! Her veggie lasagna is the best. So what you been up to, besides? Still working too much?" he asks.

"You know I enjoy my work," I answer. "But I've signed up to online dating, so that'll be new."

"Wow, dating. How long have you been doing that?"

"I signed up earlier this week."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I am telling you."

"I mean sooner." He is frowning.

"It's no big deal. Alice has been nagging me to do it for years."

"Why now?"

"It just feels like the right time, you know, meet new people, have some fun." I resent that I feel like I am justifying myself.

"Fun," he repeats skeptically.

 _Please don't think about asking me out_ , I think to myself. Out loud, I say, "You know, I want to widen my circle a little, meet different people."

Jake scowls. "Have you been on any dates yet?"

"One, last night."

"Already?" He sounds shocked. "How did it go?"

"I wasn't attracted to him," I say, and shrug.

Luckily, Alice has tuned into our conversation, and she asks Jake about his trip to change the topic. I feel a little deflated. My single mojito buzz has long fled; I have been on soft drinks all night as I'm driving home. We finish up with a shared dessert, and the sugar rush and lighter conversation raises my spirits by the time we're leaving. Jake insists on walking me back to the office parking lot, to his credit, but it feels awkward. I find myself thinking about him and our non-relationship on the drive home.

I've thought about it over the years—whether Jake might be right for me—and the answer is no. He's a nice guy, one of my best friends, and has a big heart, but we just don't fit as a couple. The bottom line is that I'm not attracted to him, and he's too passive, too much of a tumbleweed blowing in the wind, to excite me. I haven't exactly made a huge success of my life, but I need direction. I'm attracted to ambition, and I think I need someone who can challenge me. Jake just doesn't do that. I don't want to lose him as a friend, so I try to walk this fine balance. But sometimes I fear that I'll stumble and hurt him. I wonder if I hurt him anyway, just by being me, and it makes me sad.

I check my cell when I get in and see that I have some notifications on Match.

Mike has sent you a message: _How on earth are you still single?_

It makes me smile. I look at his profile: he lives in Bellevue – not too far out of the city, he likes to run and takes his job seriously. He has posted a photo of him on top of a mountain somewhere, and he's not bad looking.

 _Haven't you read the part about me being stubborn?_ I type out. I am in need of some banter.

He replies: _Haha! That might explain it. How are you? Your profile looks interesting. Would like to hear more about you. Why haven't you done an add?_

I reply, _Yes, must get around to that! It's harder than it seems. I'm good thanks. You? Just got in from dinner with my friends._

His reply is instant: _I know what you mean. What was it about mine that got you to reply?_

 _To be honest, I just couldn't resist the opportunity to be snarky. But I like the look of your profile, I can tell you put some thought into it and tried to show what you're about_ , I reply.

I work on my add for a while. I keep tweaking but finally end up with:

 _A little bit about me – I'm independent and strong-willed, but also respectful. I am open-minded and positive in my outlook. I get a buzz out of traveling, trying new things and spending time with interesting people. I have a busy work life so like to balance my adventures with time to relax, and I'm happy in my own company, too._

 _My perfect man would spend time to get to know me, know how to make me smile and also be a partner in crime when the mood calls for it._

 _If I intrigue you send me a message, you never know what could happen._

 _Bella xx_

I'm trying to sound flirty, but I'm not at all sure that I can pull it off. I upload it anyway.

Mike has sent you a message: _How about we play a game, tell me five random things about you._

I am up to that challenge. I reply: _I'm in._

 _1\. I swam with sea lions in Spain._

 _2\. I make a mean mojito._

 _3\. I run to keep fit._

 _4\. I bake._

 _5\. I like few things more than the sun setting over the Puget Sound._

 _Your turn!_

His reply doesn't take long: _I run too, I like to run two half marathons a year. I like my car more than I should. I was shortlisted for a business award last year. I love, LOVE Nutella. I recently went go-karting on sand dunes in Dubai._

I like this game. I reply: _That's cool. This is fun. I have an important question – how do you eat Nutella?_

 _With everything, any way it comes, as long as it's Nutella. On toast, on pancakes, with a spoon…_

I reply laughing: _OMG! I can't believe it. I have a friend that mocks me mercilessly for eating Nutella with a spoon. Glad I'm not the only one!_

He replies: _SNAP! Can I ask, does it bother you that I'm 25?_

Shit! I quickly scroll back to his profile. He's 25. How did I miss that? It's only 4 years, but I had always thought I'd be suited to a man older than me.

 _Age is just a number_ , I reply. I'm having fun after all. Wasn't this what I wanted?

 _Just thought I'd check that it didn't bother you. I like to date older women. I don't really connect with women my own age._

This is interesting. I want to explore this a bit more but it's late and I'm tired.

 _I'm heading to bed, but how about we chat soon? B x_

 _Would love to. Speak soon. Night x_

 **Author's Note**

 **Thank you for reading. I would love to hear what you think. Rest assured there will be an Edward, but it's a slow burn. I will be posting weekly.**

 **Thanks again to Songster for betaing, I don't know that I would do without you! (See what I did there? LOL). Thanks to Rhona for pre-reading.**

 **Rhian**

 **xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 3**

My phone rings. It's my dad.

"Hi Bels, how are you doing?"

"Good thanks, Dad."

"Sue's been filling me in on this dating stuff," he says.

"Yeah," I say. I knew this would be coming. My dad was the Police Chief in Forks, before he retired. I'm pretty sure he's still managing the station, through his protégé, Andy. I am about to get the safety brief.

"I know you know this honey, but I wouldn't be your dad, if I didn't worry."

"Go for it."

"People can be good at hiding who they really are. It's important that you trust your instincts – if something doesn't feel right it probably isn't…" I tune out for most of it; I've heard this before. "Do you have your pepper spray I gave you?"

"Yes, Dad, I have it." It's not a lie; it's in my underwear draw. It lives there. "I know how to be safe. You raised me remember."

"Don't get smart. Right, well this guy you're dating, Mike is it? I want to know his surname, and where he lives."

"Dad, I don't know his second name yet. It doesn't work like that," I try to explain. "And besides, you're not going to get Andy to look up the guy that I'm dating!"

"Give me something I can work with."

"Right, his name is Mike; he's 25. He lives in Bellevue, out by the Lake Sammamish. He's a nice guy. I've already seen him once, and my _instincts_ tell me he's a regular guy. We're going to dinner in a public place," I add for good measure.

We've been chatting quite a bit, now by text (the Match chat is so clunky), and I've gotten to know a bit about his character, job, and family. The biggest downside at the minute is that he still lives at home with his parents. He has an annex apparently, which I both disdain and feel intimidated by, in equal measure. His texts have been keeping me entertained though. His are funny and charming in a distinctly boyish way.

I am seeing him on Friday for date number two. The first was a hit; there was chemistry for sure, and a kiss goodbye. I am looking forward to seeing him again. I want to mock him in person about his text last week. He doesn't usually use emojis, that's his cover story anyway, and he sent me a poop emoji in one of his messages. I thought it was a little weird, so I asked him if he knew what that symbol was. He replied saying that he was looking for something that looked like Nutella. I laughed so hard that my neighbors probably think I'm crazy.

The information mollifies my dad a bit, and we finish off talking about Sue's upcoming birthday. He has a heart of gold, and wants to get her something nice, but he's hopeless at gifts. So I'm going to have a think about what she might like from him. I'll be going home to Forks for her birthday weekend anyway so I'll pick up something in the city for him.

"We're happy for you, Bells. Speak soon," he says, ending the call.

 **o0o**

"Hi," Mike greets me and gives me a peck on the cheek. "You good?"

"Hi, yourself," I reply. "Yes, thanks. You?"

"I have that Friday feeling, for sure. What can I get you?"

Mike goes to order our drinks at the bar while we wait for our table. We're at a little tapas place downtown. While we were talking about my travels and Spanish food, Mike confessed that he'd never had tapas. So we're rectifying that today.

The restaurant is delightfully quaint; they have candles in wine bottles on the tables, bar tables made from big old barrels, and checker-board flooring. Mike looks good in jeans and a shirt. I check out his profile while he waits at the bar.

I check my phone, too. I have a text from Jake: _Hi Bel, sorry I missed your calls, been busy. Hope you're good,_ it says.

I think he's been avoiding me. I type: _Good thanks. No worries. Want to get a coffee or something?_

He replies: _Going to be busy for a while, things are chaos at work. I'll be in touch x_

It's a brush off, if I've ever heard one. Being a waiter, Jake works unsociable hours, but it's always easy enough to fit in a coffee, or a lunch date. I put my phone away just as Mike is coming back with our drinks.

"One… What was it again?" he asks, as he places my glass of red wine on the table.

" _Vino tinto_ ," I say. "I learned the important stuff on my trip to Spain."

"I see," he says. "So what else is important?"

"Erm, ordering tapas, obviously, Sangria too, but that's easy. The tricky part is to remember that their double 'l' as in Paella, is pronounced as an 'i' sound – Paella," I demonstrate. "What do you want to eat?"

"Show me what you've got," he says.

The waiter arrives and I order Albóndigas, mixed meats, tortilla, and patatas bravas. We can always order more as we go if we're still hungry.

"How has your week been?" I ask.

He reaches for my hand, and absently draws patterns on it as he tells me about a big deal that he's landed today. It's interesting, and he's clearly proud of himself, rightly so. He's landed a $7 million account and that means he's smashed his target well in advance of the close of the financial year. His happiness is infectious, and I forget about Jake.

"Eaten any poop this week?" I ask, with a broad grin.

We both laugh and he blushes a bit. He is fair haired, with grey eyes, and I can see a hint of ginger in his beard.

"I swear, I am never going to use emojis again!"

"Poop on toast perhaps, or with a spoon?" He puts his face in his hands, and I find that I enjoy teasing him.

"I'm counting on this tapas being quite a bit nicer than poop!"

The food arrives. It's delicious, and I'm pretty certain that I've converted him.

"I can tell you can cook, just from the way you talk about food," he observes.

"I'm not bad. My mom taught me. She's a really good cook. My stepmom, that is," I clarify.

"Do you mind if I ask what your relationship is like with your biological mom? You said she's living in Florida?"

"Yeah, it's complicated. She is a little disorganized in her thoughts. She's not a bad person, but she's not exactly what you'd call… _stable_ ," I say, feeling guilty as the word leaves my mouth. "She's better now she's with Phil, her husband. He seems to ground her."

"That's good. Do you see her often?"

"I see her at least twice a year," I answer. "She'll come here, or I'll go there. They have a lovely little place by the beach."

"I love living by the water," he states, and I can tell by his face he means it deep down to his bones.

"Yes, you said your folks' place is on Lake Sammamish?"

"Yeah, I grew up out that way. They have a small dock at the back of the house onto the water. I have such good memories from when I was young, playing in the water, going out on the sail boat with my dad."

"Are you close?" I ask.

"Yeah, we get along great. He taught me how to sail. It makes sense for me to stay at the apartment when I'm in Seattle. I have been planning to buy my own place, but it would be empty most of the time with me traveling for work so much."

"Yeah, makes sense," I agree.

"I imagine a 25-year-old living with the 'rents wasn't exactly a turn on for you?" he probes.

I squirm. I don't like that I have been judgmental about this.

"I get plenty of space while I'm on the road. I get how it might look though," he fills the silence I've left while I decide what to say. "I am getting tired of lonely hotel rooms though, maybe you would enjoy a weekend away with me sometime?"

It takes me by surprise. We've talked about what we're looking for, and as we're both listed as _let's see what happens_ on Match, it's out there on the table that we're not necessarily looking for commitment. A weekend away feels more than casual.

"Like a dirty weekend away?" I tease.

"Yes," he states baldly. "I would like that, if you would?"

"I guess that would be nice. Sometime," I answer. "So tell me more about liking older women."

"Well, I just don't find girls my age interesting. Younger girls even less so," he explains. "Lots are in college and don't have any direction in their lives, and it just doesn't attract me. Take you for example, you have a good job that you can talk about, and you got it when I was talking about work earlier, it's nice to share those things."

He insists on picking up the check, which part of me objects to, and part of me likes.

"Thank you, but next time it's my turn," I say.

"So there _is_ a next time?" he asks.

"I think so?"

"Me too," he says. He leans down to kiss my cheek. "Hm, you smell good. Where are you parked?"

"At the office, on 2nd Avenue," I reply.

"That's far to walk at this time of night. I'm parked just around the corner. Let me drive you to your car?" he asks.

"That would be great, thank you." I put Charlie's talk to the back of my mind. I feel safe, and he did say to trust my instincts.

He takes my hand as we walk. It's bitterly cold, and I welcome the contact. It's quite nice, this courtship ritual. Perhaps I could get used to being tactile with a man. When we get to his car, I understand why he likes it so much. It's a fancy BMW in navy blue. The interior is cream, it's ever so comfortable, and he puts the heated seats function on for me.

"Let's warm that ass." He smiles, and I detect double entendre in his words.

The dash looks like a spaceship, a far cry from my old Audi A3. I love my car. It drives like a dream and fits me like a glove, but it doesn't have any of this digital age stuff. He drives with ease, talking and reaching for my knee as we glide through the city.

"I've had a really good evening. Thank you, Bella," he says, as he pulls up. "Can I walk you to your car?"

"Oh, no, don't worry, we have secure parking just through that gate. It's only a few steps."

"Can I kiss you goodnight, then?"

I lean in for answer. He smells of fresh cologne. The air is alive with anticipation. This is my first real kiss in years. I am glad he hasn't asked enough questions to know that. His kiss is gentle, taking his time. I tilt my head backwards and catch his upper lip in my teeth softly. I hear a hum in his throat, so I do it again, and he holds me tighter, repositioning me closer as we reach over the center console to kiss. His hand slides up to my hair, and I know he's good at this.

I pull away after a while. "Goodnight," I say, biting my lip shyly. "That was… nice." I feel like a schoolgirl. I get out of the car and head over to my work's parking lot. He waits and watches to see that I'm safe; I like that.

 **o0o**

I wake up ridiculously early the next morning. I am not supposed to see the clock read 05:50 on a weekend, I'm certain. I feel all excited after last night. I want a third date, and I want to sleep with him. I need to go underwear shopping. I am nowhere near prepared for sexy times with my current wardrobe. I am a cotton girl and choose plain bras that don't show through my clothes. I decide to go shopping later today. But first I'll have a run and try to burn off some of this nervous energy. Once it gets light, that is. I check my phone to see when dawn will be, 07:09 it says. So I turn over, and huddle under the warmth of the duvet. I find no sleep.

It hasn't been as cold as it might have been this January. The water of the Puget Sound looks eerily dark this morning; everywhere is gray. The trains running through the park are jarringly loud in the quiet of the morning, even with _Sia_ playing through my earphones. As I reach the beach, I turn to see that the sun is trying to poke through the clouds. I see a subtle ray of yellow out to the east, but otherwise it's only shades of gray in the sky. I take a breather and do some stretches, before walking for a bit.

I am pleased to see Dani darting my way through the semi darkness. Dani is my park friend. I have no idea what type of dog she is, or what her actual name is. She is growing fast and will soon be huge, I've no doubt. I find her fascinating. She must be a cross of some kind. I definitely think there is some husky in her; she has the brightest, piercing, blue eyes I've ever seen. But her coat is a pale blonde, with a white face and belly. I see her often, in the park; this is where she gets her walks. She's off the lead, and as has become our habit, she comes over to me for a quick pet. "Hi girl," I say.

I look up to see who she's with today. Her mom is a pristine-looking and beautiful blonde. She is a little stand-offish, but not unfriendly. We usually nod or smile in greeting before she passes, and Dani follows. Her dad is my Carkeek Park crush. It's usually him that walks the dog. He has this magical hair that sometimes appears an ordinary brownish color, but if the sun catches it, he has auburn highlights that look ethereal.

It's him today. Dani's with her dad. He's quite far behind Dani, so it's a while before he catches up to her, and Dani and I have some quality petting time. He's more open than his wife. I'll usually get a pleasant greeting and a bit of small talk.

"Morning," he greets me as he nears. "She really likes you, doesn't she?" His voice is like gravel this morning. Sexy gravel.

"I like her, too," I reply, still petting her. My voice sounds peculiar with my earphones still in.

"You seem to like dogs. Do you have any pets?"

"No, I'd love to, but I'm at work all day. It wouldn't be fair."

"What do you do for work?" he asks.

"I work at a recruitment office."

"That sounds interesting."

"It can be."

He looks at me a moment; looking over my face as if he's searching for something. I feel almost examined, as if I'm under a microscope. I don't know what to say, and a moment of charged silence passes between us.

He frowns and I don't think he's found whatever he was looking for. "Well, I'll leave you to your exercise," he says. "See you next time."

As he walks away, I think he says my name. I start. "Sorry?" I ask, and take an earbud out.

"I was just telling Stella to come," he says.

 _Oh, her name is Stella!_ I thought he'd said Bella. That would have been weird. He frowns a little; he must have caught the surprise in my voice.

"Sorry," I say. "I thought you said something else. Have a nice day."

"You too," he replies, and wanders off with Dani, no Stella, in tow.

Rest over, I pick up my pace and choose a different path. I know that Dani will try to keep up with me if I overtake her. I'm a little sad I know her real name, I prefer Dani. It's short for Daenerys, the character from _Game of Thrones_. It seemed an obvious choice with those eyes and pale fur. She has a loving temperament, but there is also something fierce and wild about her. I run a little faster when "Bird Set Free" comes on. I love this song; the lyrics speak to me, and the rhythm boosts my energy as I head towards home.

 **Author's Note**

 **Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you think. I told you there would be Edward, a bit of a slow burn here though.**

 **As ever thank you to Songster for betaing and Rhona for pre-reading.**

 **Really big day for me tomorrow at an assessment center. Wish me luck!**

 **Rhian xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **Updating a day early as I will be traveling tomorrow night :)**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 4**

I turn the key in the door of my apartment. Traffic was awful despite leaving work late, and it's nearly for eight o'clock. I am glad to be home. I am disproportionately proud of my little one bed apartment on Greenwood Avenue North. I think it's because it's the first place I haven't shared, and the first place I've furnished. I have a little balcony that I love in the summer. I have a small table and chairs out there and some potted plants. Just add a book and some sunshine, and I'm in my element.

The phone starts ringing just as I unlock the door. "Hi Mom," I greet, as I rest the phone on my shoulder and take off my gloves. I tell her a little about my day and a project I'm working on.

"So have you heard from Mike?" she asks.

"Yes, we've been texting. He's invited me out to his place for the evening on Friday."

"Bella! That's exciting. He must be serious."

"We're just casual."

"Your dad and I were just casual, at first."

Sue's daughter and I were in the same class in school. That's how Sue and my dad met. Leah and I would have play dates; Sue and Charlie would chat. Two single parents wanting a connection, I think. They had my little brother Seth not long after they got married. I say little brother; he's twice my size now.

I am putting some dinner on. I am having macaroni and cheese tonight. I want something warming and calorie-laden.

"Stop it!" I say. "It's nice though, he's making me laugh."

Sue chuckles. "Well that's the important thing, sweetie. Any more emoji incidents?" she asks. She barely knows what an emoji is, but she found the poop story quite amusing.

"No, he's steering clear of emojis. He's in New York with work this week. Any news?" I ask.

"Not really. Your dad is complaining about his back, but won't go to the doctors."

"Typical," I retort.

"That's exactly what I said. Seth is starting to panic a bit, though he's trying to hide it. Final year and all that…" Seth is in his final year studying architecture at the University of Washington. He's a relaxed, amicable sort, but this degree means a lot to him.

"Leah is having some troubles with Sam," she continues. "I don't think she's happy."

"I thought that, too." We all spent Christmas together in Forks, and Leah, though she's always got an edge to her, seemed more prickly than usual, and she was closed with me when I asked about Sam. "I don't know what's going on there though, do you?"

"No, she won't talk to me." She sighs.

"Don't worry. She'll talk when she's ready. Mom, I better go, my multi-tasking is failing a bit."

"Bye honey. Speak soon."

"Bye, love you." We end the call.

I've been washing up and not paying enough attention to my pasta that has boiled over, damn it. I put some music on and clear up. I enjoy the meal; it feels hearty and hits the spot. I check my cell and have a message from Alice. We text awhile and plan for her to come round for dinner on the weekend. There is also a notification on Match.

You have a message from Tyler: _Hi Ella, how are you? I like traveling too, where is your favorite place? Tyler_

There is another message timed one minute later: _Bella! I meant Bella. Damn autocorrect. Sorry not a good start._

He is attractive. He has short brown hair with a slight wave in it; it looks stylish. He is tanned and has serious-looking eyes. His profile tells me he's 33, lives in Seattle, works in IT, and plays in a band. I like the look of Tyler. But what's the etiquette here? I am headed for a third date with Mike. I debate internally and then decide there is no harm in conversation.

I reply and tell Tyler about Barcelona. I tell him about the beautiful light in the Sagrada Familia and the fountains outside the museum. Coincidently, he's been to Spain too. He tells me about his trip to Seville, and how he went to the Water Gardens where _Game of Thrones_ filmed their scenes at Dorne.

It's late before I realize it, and I head to bed. I check my work calendar for tomorrow's schedule and set my alarm. I am re-reading _Drums of Autumn_ by Diana Gabaldon and manage a chapter before my eyes start to droop.

Thursday yields nothing exciting, but I am looking forward to Friday with Mike. It's the third date and I'm going to his place. I have my new underwear and an outfit laid out ready for tomorrow when my cell beeps.

I have message from Mike: _Hi Bella, hope you're okay. I've got caught up here in NY, and I'm sorry but I'm not going to be able to make it tomorrow. I might be here for a few weeks while we broker this deal. My boss wants me to stay. I'm sorry. Look, have fun on Match. I can get in touch when I'm back, if you want me to? M x_

My new underwear and I feel a little foolish now. My bikini line feels abused, without purpose. I sigh. Never mind, I am a big girl and it's not necessarily a brush off. He seemed really interested last time we met.

I type out a reply: _No worries, life happens. I hope all goes well with work. Don't be a stranger x_

My sedate mood follows me into Friday, but at least there is that Friday feeling as consolation. I feel a little more relaxed at work on a Friday, than the rest of the week. Especially today, as I have no meetings and can get on with some admin that is sorely overdue some attention.

My sense of calm is short-lived however. Charlotte, one of my team, comes over to see me.

"Hi Bella, can we talk?" she asks.

"Of course," I say. I find us an empty meeting room.

"What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to tell you something. I know it's not your problem, but I'm in a bit of bother and I'm not sure if I'll be able to come to work next week." She fidgets with her short blonde hair, obsessively tucking it behind her right ear.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm going to the police station after work today. I've been having some problems with Peter."

I've met Peter a few times. He is Charlotte's fiancé. He used to come with her for after-work drinks sometimes. But it's been a long time since Charlotte came anywhere with us. She didn't even come to the Christmas party.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"Not really, but I'm gonna be. I'm fixing to leave him."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"He's controlling and, um, violent. I need to get away from him."

This isn't what I was expecting. I feel my eyebrows rise without my permission. I try to keep my face neutral.

"I thought I could deal with it, calm him." She is fidgeting with her hem now, tugging at a loose thread on her skirt. "But it's getting worse. He– he threatened me with a knife last night."

"Oh, God. How awful." I feel the inanity of my words.

"He held it up right in my face. He said it was because I ignored him when he called me, but he didn't call me. I know he didn't. You know how I was off the other week, and I said I had the flu?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't. He wouldn't let me leave the house. I only got him to agree to me calling in sick because he knows we need my money coming in. He thinks I'm having an affair with someone here. Says he smells sex on me when I go home."

"Do you have family that can help? I don't remember you mentioning anyone."

"No, my mama and I aren't on speaking terms. Peter, he wasn't always like this. Back when we was younger, he saved me. He brought me here to Seattle, a million miles away from our hometown in Tennessee. It's always been just us since then."

"You feel you owe him?"

"I do, no doubt about it. My mama, she was a cruel woman. Always Bible this and Jesus that, and I was never good enough, always getting punished for one thing or another." Her Southern accent is more pronounced as she talks of home.

"I seen him at school with shiners. I knew he was trouble. He was a bigshot football player. He was leaving Tennessee to get him a big career. He said I could go with him, get a job, get away from my mama. It was me and him against the world. It seems so stupid now. I don't know how I let things get so bad. It just sorta creeps up on you. Things don't seem _that_ far from normal, just like one thing is out of step. But before you know it there have been so many little steps that it becomes normal."

"Don't blame yourself."

"I blame him," she says with conviction. "That's what I'm coming to see. I kept making excuses for him, kept thinking that things would get better. I kept staying because he saved me once and perhaps I could save him back. He took to drink when he injured his knee and the career went up in smoke. I need to save myself this time."

"You're very brave."

"I don't feel brave. I feel scared."

"That's natural; this is a big step."

"It's funny what makes you revaluate your life sometimes. I want to thank you, Bella."

"What for?"

"Well, all this talk about your dating. When we was chatting with Jessica last week, and you was saying what you want from a relationship, it got me to thinking. I don't have a relationship or a boyfriend really; I have a keeper. The knife was the last straw. He never used weapons before."

I reach for her hand and steady it's shaking. "I'm sorry this is happening to you."

"I wanted to tell you. I don't want to let you down, but I don't know what will happen from here. I can't go back to the apartment, and I don't know what the police will be able to help with. There are shelters where women can go, I know. But I've been too afraid to look it up at home, he checks up on me."

"Shall we go take a look on my computer?" The office is mostly open plan, but my back is to the wall at my desk, so I have some privacy.

"Can we?"

Back at my desk, we do some discreet Googling. I write down some contact details for a support group and a local shelter.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, you have your work to be getting on with. I don't want to take up more of your time."

"It's no problem at all."

"Thank you, but it's something I need to face by myself."

"Do you want me to take you to get some of your belongings while he's still at work?"

"Oh, bless you. I packed a bag this morning. Peter left before me this morning, so I packed some things."

I give her the rest of the day off and order an Uber for her to the nearest police station. It's not that far, but I don't want her walking alone. I go outside with her to wait. She's told me how Peter tells her he checks up on her at work; driving past the office while doing deliveries and calling reception. Her suspense is palpable as we wait.

"Text me to let me know you're safe," I say, giving her a hug before she gets in the car.

I stay outside to collect my thoughts and breathe in some fresh air. The air is icy in my lungs, but I enjoy the distraction. It's not entirely out of the blue that Peter is an asshole. There was always something about him that I didn't like, but this is something else.

On my way back in I let Lauren, the receptionist, know that if anyone calls for Charlotte not to give any information out. Not even whether she is here or not, and to forward the call onto my desk number. I don't tell her the full story, just that things are strained at home and that her fiancé, Peter, is not to be allowed inside the building. She's good at her job. She'll be discreet and hopefully it will help.

For the rest of the day, I just can't shake the thought of how little Charlotte is compared to Peter. He towers over in height and is easily twice her weight. The image of him threatening her with a knife is clear in my mind. Charlotte is only in her early twenties, so young to be dealing with such a heavy burden. Though I instinctively didn't like him, I never would have suspected this. I guess you never really know what's happening behind closed doors.

Tyler is my saving grace. He has sent me a message on the off chance that I am free for drinks after work. I think it might be the perfect distraction. He suggests a bar on the waterfront, and I meet him there.

The bar has seating outside and good heaters. The view is worth braving the elements, so we sit out there. Tyler brings me a glass of wine, and I feel relaxed, sitting there with him, letting go of the tension of the day. He is as handsome in person as his photo, and he's easy to talk to. We talk about our travels. He is a bit braver than me, going with the flow, and not planning too much in advance. I get the next round in and move to a soft drink as I have the car. Living out at Greenwood can be a pain sometimes.

The Friday night party-goers are starting to walk past, all dressed up and ready for a night out in the city, but it feels calm in our bubble. Just as I'm thinking this, something splatters on my chest, ricocheting onto my arm. _OMG, it's bird poop!_

"Oh, God!" I say. "This feels rather symbolic of the day I've had today. I better go clean up."

How embarrassing! This would only happen to me on a first date. I try in vain to clear it up in the restroom. I wipe up what I can but I'm wearing a cashmere mix coat (my favorite coat for that matter), and tissue just isn't going to cut it. I scrub my hands furiously afterwards. Ick!

I keep my head held high as I head back to Tyler. "I ah, think I better go," I say. "I've had fun though. Thank you, it was just what I needed today."

"You're handling it very well," he says with a smile.

"That's me, handling being shat on with class." I can't help but laugh.

He kisses me on the cheek, carefully keeping his chest from mine, and we both head in our different directions. I call Alice on the way back to the car and she is merciless.

"Let me get this straight," she says sternly. "You were shat on by a seagull. On your first date with this Tyler guy. You're now on your way to your car. You're still wearing the coat with shit on it. And now you're talking to me?"

"Correct," I agree.

I lose her for a while as she is overcome with laughter, and again as she shouts to tell Jasper my news in the background.

"Seriously, what is it with you and guys and poop?"

I laugh along; probably looking like a crazy person, with bird shit on her camel-colored coat, walking up 2nd Avenue. I think I'll stop off at the dry cleaners on the way home.

 **Author's note**

 **Thanks ever so much for sticking with this story. Please tell me what you think. More Edward in the next chapter, I promise.**

 **Huge thanks to Songster for betaing my splice-loving syntax. Rhona, thanks for your input with this chappie. I think it reads much better after your suggestion.**

 **Feel for me – getting shat on by a seagull on a date actually happened to me! Fail. I'm Rhian0000 on Twitter if you want to chat. I'm always happy to make new friends.**

 **Much love,**

 **Rhian xx**


	5. Chapter 5

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 5**

I enjoy my commute to work. It usually takes about half an hour, dependent on traffic. It gives me time to wake up and plan for the day ahead. I enjoy the solitary time with my thoughts. Charlotte has been texting me over the weekend, so I know she's safe, and in some sort of shelter. She is coming into work today. It's been playing on my mind all weekend. Even Stella's dad noticed at the park on Saturday, as we said our usual hellos. I should really ask what his name is.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked. "You don't look yourself." He reached out a hand towards my upper arm as if to comfort me, but didn't quite touch me. I think I would have enjoyed the feel of his hand on my arm more than is healthy.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied. I am a bad liar. "But thank you. It's kind of you to ask."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay, well, you take care," he said, and wandered off, reluctantly I think.

Stella lingered a little longer as if she too sensed I was in need of comfort. "Go on, girl," I said.

I need to cut it out, I think to myself, as I pull into the carpark. Charlotte is the one who is having a tough time, not me. She is already in the office when I arrive.

"Hi," I say. "How are you?" There is no one in hearing range yet, so we talk by my desk.

"I'm okay," she answers. "The police were friendly, bless them. They took my statement and said they could arrest him for the threats and the violence. But the thing is I don't want him in jail, I just want to get away from him. They've been talking to me about getting a restraining order so he can't come near me."

"That's good."

"I know that he won't let me go in the normal way. He's never really been normal; always so intense and manipulative. The apartment is rented in my name, so they said I could contact the landlord and get the locks changed. But I don't think I want to be there on my own. Maybe I would be better having a fresh start."

"Where are you staying now?"

"At a shelter. It's not the nicest place but at least I have some of my things. There are some women that showed up there with nothing. Some came straight from the hospital. There are so many shocking stories. Peter isn't so bad, compared to some of them."

"Are you having second thoughts?"

"No, no," she says, but she lacks the conviction I saw in her on Friday.

"I'm here if you want to talk. I talked to my dad at the weekend and he said he'd be happy to talk to you if you wanted."

"Once a policeman, always a policeman," she says.

"Exactly. Let me know if there is anything you need, won't you? Company, groceries, anything."

"I will. Thank you."

 **o0o**

It's Saturday morning, and I am running in the park. The sky is ominously gray and the air is close. Uncharacteristically, I would welcome rain today. It has been an eventful week and I would appreciate the release of a storm.

Tyler and I had another date on Wednesday. We went for food this time, at a bistro he knows well. I can't help but compare the differences between Mike and Tyler. Mike made me laugh more. I liked his free spirit and easy laughs. Tyler is more attractive and more grown up. Not just in years, but inside. My mom has always said that I was born an adult, and I know what she means. I get the sense that Tyler is similar in that regard. He has come out of a five-year relationship. I've not asked much about it yet and only know that it ended around a year ago and that they had a house together. I don't want to be nosy.

I saw him last night, too. I saw quite a bit more of him last night, and I have the aches to prove it. He chose a nice restaurant for food, and we went onto a cocktail bar afterwards. I had planned to get an Uber home, but when he asked if I'd rather go back to his place, I said yes. We walked to his apartment hand in hand, and I felt daring.

He wasn't in a hurry, and opened a bottle of wine. He played guitar for me. He was relaxed in his performance, seducing me with his talent. He placed his guitar down carefully and looked me straight in the eye as he leaned in to kiss me. His lips were tender, but firm. He lifted me, changing my position on the couch, so that I was flat on my back with him above me. The feeling was exhilarating; succumbing to him, knowing where it is was going to lead.

His hand slid up my leg, underneath my dress. He teased me through the fabric of my panties and pantyhose; slow, deliberate circles, making me wet. I fisted his shirt and began to unbutton it, but he stood and offered me his hand. "Come with me," he said, and led me to his bedroom.

He drew me into a kiss at the foot of the bed before lowering me down onto my back. He pushed up my dress and slid down my panties and pantyhose in one slick movement. Crawling onto the bed, he placed a kiss on my clit, making me squirm. But he quickly moved away, teasingly kissing my inner thighs a while before going where I wanted him.

The lighting was low, but I could see him clearly enough. It was erotic, watching him. I flexed in appreciation as he licked harder and held my legs open with his hands. They were strong and firm on the sensitive skin of my thighs. He teased the orgasm slowly out of me, causing shivers to run through my body. I was too inhibited to properly let go and let the orgasm consume me.

I think of how he held my hands above my head as he pushed into me. It was a shock; that first thrust. He was big and he hadn't put his fingers inside me, so I felt the full thrust stretching me to the point of pain. I ache this morning. I have aches in muscles I didn't even know I had. He put me through my paces, and it was nearly four in the morning by the time we drifted off to sleep. My blush isn't just from the running.

Waking up in his bed this morning was strange, though. I just don't normally do this kind of thing, and I found that the morning light brought with it some of the walls that I had let down in the heat of last night. We chatted and it was amicable. I couldn't say it was awkward, but I was keen to get home and didn't stay for breakfast.

I ease my pace. I have been pushing it this morning, but I think the run might help loosen me up. I will stop to stretch when I reach the bridge; it leads to the beach, and I like to take in the scenery. _Oh Wonder_ are keeping me company in my earphones this morning. Their song, "All I Want," though melancholy, fits my mood. It reminds me why I signed up to Match; nothing comes from hiding and waiting. I am glad I didn't play it safe last night. I've spent too long playing it safe.

But before I make it to the bridge, my world tilts. A force from behind me propels me to the ground. I go down quickly and hard. The impact is jarring, and it knocks the breath out of me. There is a pale snout at my ear, and a warm pink tongue explains what has happened. I hear a worried cry of "Stella!" from behind me. It sounds miles away.

I am slow to move. I turn sluggishly and sit up. Stella is bounding around in front of me, and she's trying to lick my face. I pet her, and block her efforts. I must have run past her. My hands hurt—I've scraped them, but I think my knees got the worst of it.

"Shush, girl" I tell Stella, who is whining now. There is a buzzing in my ears, so I pull out my earphones. I quickly check that I haven't damaged my phone and am pleased that it's okay.

"I am so sorry! Stella, get off the lady." She is pulled away from me.

I feel like I should be getting up, but I'm not ready.

"It's okay. I'll be fine. I just need a minute."

I expect him to walk away, but he sits down next to me.

"Do you think this is her way of getting us to talk more?" he asks.

I snort.

"You're her favorite. I think she likes you better than she likes me." He chuckles. "Look, I'm really sorry. She's still young; I should keep her on the lead more."

"No, really it's okay. She was probably put out I hadn't petted her. I should have been paying more attention." _Rather than thinking about the sex I had last night_. My blush is still in full force.

"Let me check I have this right – my dog just knocked you over, from _behind,_ and it's your fault for not paying attention?" There is laughter in his voice.

I snort again. "You may have a point."

"Will you let me help you home, or go get you a drink or something?"

"No, no, I'll be fine. I'm just going to have a breather and head off in a while."

He doesn't move.

"It's okay. You don't have to wait with me."

"I'm in no hurry. I'd rather wait and make sure you're okay."

"That's kind, thank you. But I'll be fine."

"Nope, sorry, you're not getting rid of me until I can see you can walk okay." He extends his hand. "I'm Edward."

I take it timidly, conscious of my scraped palms. I notice, as I extend my arm, that my elbows didn't get off lightly either.

"Bella," I say.

His grip is gentle, and his hand is warm, despite the February weather. Close up, his eyes are strikingly green. As if he needed another swoon-worthy attribute. Not that I'm the swooning type, usually. Today might be an exception.

"You have beautiful eyes," he says.

I frown. I didn't say anything about his eyes out loud did I? Is he mocking me? He lets go of my hand.

"I'm sorry," he says, smiling. "I'm not coming onto you while you're injured, I promise."

"Thanks," I say absently, not sure what I'm thanking him for.

"It feels like our introduction is a bit overdue, don't you think? I see you here all the time. It seems strange that I didn't know your name."

"Hm," I say, distracted. There is a small stone jammed into the palm of my left hand.

"Allow me," he says. He takes my hand and gently removes the stone, then blows on my palm to displace the grit. My palm tingles.

I feel a little self-conscious. I can see him surveying me for wounds, and I feel more exposed than I did naked in Tyler's bed.

"Can I take a look at your knees?" he asks. "It's the least I can do."

"Are you a doctor or something?"

"No." He laughs. "I am a first aider though, at work."

"Okay," I agree and straighten my legs a bit.

My bottoms are tight like leggings so it takes me a while to roll them up above my knees. Edward helps and takes one leg. It feels intimate. There is a charge in the air, and I'm not sure whether it's the shock of the fall, the closeness of the weather, or if it's growing between us.

"They're not too bad," he says, mirroring my own thoughts when we can see both my knees. "They need cleaning out, but there isn't much blood thankfully. I live nearby and have some supplies, if you want me to help?"

"That's kind, thank you, but no."

"You say that a lot," he observes. "I think there will be bruising, but if you put some ice on them it should help. A hot bath later might be a good idea too."

He's not wrong. That's exactly what I plan to do. We both take a leg each again and roll my bottoms back down to my ankles in amicable silence. I move to get up and he takes my arm to steady me, so that we get up in tandem.

"Thank you," I say again. "I'm going to head home."

Stella goes to jump again, but Edward has her on the lead now. "You are out of favor, girl," I say to her, but pat her head. "Nice to meet you, Edward."

"The pleasure is all mine," he replies. "Wait," he says when I've turned to leave. He takes my wrist gently and brings it up to my shoulder to examine my right elbow. He picks off a dead leaf and brushes away some grit and dirt. The electric hum in the air is coming from him. It stays with me every painful step home.

 **Author's Note**

 **Well, you got to meet Edward properly. What do you think? I have a short glimpse of EPOV for reviewers of this chapter :)**

 **Huge thanks to Songster for betaing and being so patient with me.**

 **I am Rhian0000 on Twitter too if you want to chat. I always like to make new friends.**

 **Much love, Rhian xx**


	6. Chapter 6

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 6**

Alice is whirling around my apartment cleaning imaginary dirt. I watch her long cardigan flow behind her in her wake and fancy that it's her superhero cape. She completes the look with bright yellow rubber gloves. It makes me smile.

"Alice, slow down. Leave those dishes; I'll do them later." She ignores me. In her mind, my fall yesterday has made me an invalid and she must take care of me. "I'm fine really."

"Go sit down!" she commands. "I'll take care of this and put some dinner on. Watch some TV."

I give in and watch some TV and end up dozing on the couch. Alice is no cook, but she's done a decent spaghetti Bolognese. I am grateful I didn't have to cook, but I feel terribly lazy. Alice seems satisfied to have helped me.

I muse about Edward. I think I was a bit grumpy yesterday, and he was really nice to me. His wife is a lucky lady. I am so used to saying no, that I just say it before I've really thought it through. I should have let him help me. It probably would have made him feel better.

 **o0o**

I am waiting for Tyler to arrive. I am in a cozy little bar with an open fire and I am enjoying the warmth.

"Hi Bella," he says.

"Hi, yourself."

"How are you feeling? You look well."

"I am, thanks. It was nothing."

"You're a trooper, aren't you," he states rather than asks.

"I've decided to cut out the running this week though, get some rest."

"Good plan," he agrees. "I bet you're mad at the stupid dog! How irresponsible of the owner. It's clearly not safe to be off the lead." I don't have time to respond with my differing opinion, before he changes the subject. "It's nice seeing you during the week."

"Yeah, it is. How have you been?"

"Good, quiet at work which is a nice change. I'm away for the weekend. I'm going to Austin for a friend's wedding."

"Are you close?"

"Yeah, we roomed together in college." He adds a little less enthused, "I'm an usher."

"Not looking forward to that part?"

"Not especially. I'm looking forward to seeing some of my friends, though. How is your week?"

"I'm happy that it's hump day." His eyes lock with mine and I blush a little. I laugh.

The meal and the company are pleasant. I feel relaxed in the warm little bar. Tyler and I have plenty of conversation. We share views on a lot of things, and he seems insightful. It feels like friends rather than lovers today, though. I suppose that's a good thing, to be able to be friends, too. But it feels a little like a merry-go-round, this dating game; similar conversations and pleasantries time and again.

 **o0o**

It is finally Friday! I have deliberately not made any plans for this evening. I am walking from my apartment to the grocery store because I plan to cook a nice meal and enjoy a good read.

It seems that fate has other plans though. A man stops me in the street, and it takes me a beat to realize that it's Edward. He is sans Stella, and looks different in more tailored clothing, so I don't immediately recognize him.

"Bella," he says, looking surprised. "I almost didn't recognize you! How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm all better, thanks."

"I would really like to buy you a coffee or something to apologize."

I am about to say no and then I remember that I want to say yes more. He leads me to a little coffee shop around the corner. I've passed it many times, but have not been inside.

"They do lovely cakes here, if I can tempt you?" he asks.

"Temptation sounds good," I say. It's not until afterwards that I realize he might read something into that. Never mind, I know I don't flirt with married men. It's then that I think to look at his hand to see if he's wearing a ring; he isn't. So perhaps he's just dating the blonde.

I take a seat, and Edward is in line to get me tea and a slice of carrot cake. Everything is brightly colored in here and there are lots of floral patterned cushions.

Edward places the tray on the table and passes me my tea cup. Our hands graze briefly as he hands me my cake. My skin tingles. I distract myself by taking a teaspoon and stirring my tea.

"Wow, loose leaf tea and a tea pot. You know good places!"

He smiles. "I like to think so. Black tea with milk seems like a contradiction, though," he says as he hands me a small jug of milk.

"Because black usually means without milk?"

He nods.

"I got into the habit when I was in London. It's the tea itself that's black. There, you automatically get black tea if you order tea, unless you're somewhere fancy. Here, you have to ask for black or you'll get green, ick." I scoop up a piece of cake. "Mmm, this is delicious."

He seems caught off guard a moment, I'm unsure why. He coughs. "It's the least I could do," he says. "Tell me about your time in London."

I tell him a bit about my trip and confess that my favorite part was afternoon tea at the Ritz, with the jewels at the Victoria and Albert Museum a close second.

"You're quite an old-fashioned sort, aren't you?"

"I guess I am," I agree, a little grudgingly.

"I meant no disrespect," he says quickly. "I like it. I think you have this cool nineteen forties thing going on, especially with your hair like that." He points to my hair. I've pulled back the front and pinned it with a slight twist behind my ears. "Who did you go with?"

"My friend, Alice," I answer. We had started planning the trip before Alice met Jasper. I wonder if we'll still travel together now that they're a couple. "Have you been?"

"Yeah, some years ago. I went with some college friends. I studied architecture, so we went to marvel at the old buildings, the new ones, too."

"Not the walkie-talkie building surely?"

"Is that the weird curved one?"

I nod.

"It wasn't built when I was there."

"It reminds me of Spongebob Squarepants. It's hideous. Not that I know anything about architecture."

"Spongebob Squarepants?" he laughs. "You have in interesting mind, I think. But in all seriousness, I think we're all entitled to have an opinion on architecture, don't you?"

"Well, I tend to have an opinion about most things. I just don't always express it. We all have our tastes and just because something isn't to mine, it doesn't mean that it's wrong. But I really didn't like it. The tour guide told us how, because of the curved glass refracting the sun, the building has melted cars! Can you even imagine?"

"It's kind of my job to imagine. You'd think that someone would have thought about that. Amateurs." He rolls his eyes playfully.

"My little brother is studying architecture at UW. Do you work out of the city?"

"Yes, sort of. I am in the process of moving my business from L.A. to Seattle."

"Oh, so you've not been here long?"

"I grew up here; my family is here. I moved to L.A. for college and set up there after I graduated."

"I get that. What was it about L.A. that appealed?"

"I went there for the quality of the school, and really enjoyed the course. It seemed like the right place to start my career. I had some good contacts through community projects I did while studying. The weather is certainly a bonus over Seattle."

"What brought you back?"

There is a frown line between his eyebrows.

"It's okay. I didn't mean to pry."

"No, it's fine. I just have some guilt about leaving. I won't bore you with it. But it was the right thing to do, I think. It's nice being close to my family again."

"I bet. How long have you been back?"

"Since last spring." He takes a sip of his coffee and bite out of his brownie. The frown clears a little.

"Look, I'm sorry if I was a bit waspish the other day."

His eyes are suddenly bright and alive. "Well, perhaps I might pluck out your sting, Katharina."

"Sorry? I don't understand."

"It's from _The Taming of the Shrew_."

"I don't know the story."

"It's actually an awful play, very controversial. But I couldn't resist the joke, sorry." His eyes are smiling.

I don't like not being in on the joke. "My sting isn't any of your business," I say primly.

"Then, don't sting me." There is humor and something else dancing in his eyes. I suddenly feel like it was wrong to have accepted his invitation.

"Any New Year's resolutions?" he asks.

"You know it's February?"

He laughs. "I do, but I didn't get chance to ask you before."

"Um, I don't really have them. I just have some principles that I try to live by."

"Which are?"

"I like to try new things, travel, and meet new people. I'm trying to say yes more. If you're in your comfort zone, you're stationary."

"Is that why you're here?"

"Yes," I admit.

"I'm glad."

I eat a little faster.

"Have you accomplished any others so far this year?"

"I signed up to online dating."

"That's exciting. Are you dating anyone special?"

I shrug.

"Poor guy."

"What about you? Any resolutions?"

"I'm trying to be the best version of me that I can be." The frown is back.

"That's a good one. How is Stella?"

"In the dog house; figuratively, rather that literally. We've missed you in the park this week."

"I took a break from running this week."

He nods and finishes his brownie. I have finished my cake and am just taking my last sip of tea.

"This was nice. Thank you for the tea and cake. It was kind of you. I better get going. I have some groceries to get."

"That's a coincidence. That's where I was heading, too. Shall we?"

We put our coats on and head for the market. It feels strange shopping with the Adonis from the park. We chat as we move around; shyly circling each other in this new environment. I buy a nice steak and think I'll make a béarnaise sauce. I grab a bottle of wine, too. I notice that Edward's shopping is a little haphazard. I can't work out what he'll do with it. I bet his girlfriend usually does the shopping.

He goes through the checkout first, but waits for me. As we exit the store, he turns to head south. "I'm heading that way too," I say. His place must be further away than mine, so he effectively walks me home.

"Good night," I say as I turn into my building. "Thanks again."

"Goodnight, Bella."

I pour a glass of wine, put some music on, and make a late dinner. I'm not that hungry after the cake, but it's hardly dinner. I can hear my mom's voice in my head, telling me to eat something nutritional.

Edward is an interesting character. I like him more than I should. The more I know about him, the more I want to know. This is just typical of my life; I meet an interesting and very attractive man, and he's involved, with a stunning blonde no less. I wonder what he feels guilty about. Maybe the blonde doesn't like Seattle. She's never looked particularly happy when I've seen her. Maybe she just has resting bitch face.

I give Renee a call after dinner as it's been a while. She has no news really. She tells me about a mini drama with the neighbor's pool and it's all delightfully dull. I fill her in on my dates with Tyler—censored obviously—and she is thrilled.

It's late by the time I think to look up what Edward said about _The Taming of the Shrew_. He better not be calling me a shrew. I type in 'taming of the shrew wasp sting'. I open the first result but it's just taking what looks like the original prose and translating it into modern language. I open the second result, and there's lots of writing so I use Control F to find 'wasp' and read:

" _Petruchio_ _: Come, come, you wasp, i'faith you are too angry.  
_ _Kathatina:_ _If I be waspish, best beware my sting.  
_ _Petruchio_ _: My remedy is then to pluck it out.  
_ _Kathatina:_ _Ay, if the fool could find where it lies.  
_ _Petruchio:_ _Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail.  
_ _Kathatina_ _: In his tongue.  
_ _Kathatina:_ _Whose tongue?  
_ _Kathatina:_ _Yours, if you talk of tales, and so farewell.  
_ _Petruchio:_ _What, with my tongue in your tail?  
(II.i._ _207_ _–_ _214_ _)"_

 _What a smart ass! The nerve of him._

 **Author's Note**

 **Thank you so much for reading! Quite a bit more Edward this chapter. I would love to know what you think of him.**

 **As always, thanks to Songster for betaing. I did add some stuff afterwards, so any mistakes are mine.**

 **I am Rhian0000 on Twitter too if you want to chat.**

 **Rhian xx**


	7. Chapter 7

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 7**

My feet pound the ground. _Florence and the Machine's_ "Shake It Out" pounds in my ears. I am angry. I am further angry at myself for being angry. It's only me that it affects. My asshole of a boss certainly isn't worth it. I had been in meetings out of the office for most of the day with clients so didn't get back until around three. Jessica, one of my team, came over to me straight away. Her face was apologetic, and I could tell that she had bad news.

"I think we have a problem," she said.

"What's up?"

"James came to me first thing and asked me to pick up some new work. I told him I was supposed to be dedicated to the Johnson Storehouse work today, but he said to shelve it. I told him about the deadline, but he said this was more important."

"What have you been working on?"

"He has me researching leads for real estate clients. I really don't know what I'm doing, or how we could branch out to that. I'm a depot specialist. I told him that, but he didn't care. I remember what you said about how crucial it is that we secure those ten heads ready for Monday so I asked Lynn to help me out. She's on top of the Williamson stuff so she's been making some of the offers for me."

"Excellent initiative, Jess. Thank you. I'll catch up with James to see what our next move is. Look, don't worry; it's only Tuesday. I know we usually finalize today, but tomorrow can work."

James was on the phone when I got to his office. He gestured to tell me to stay. I presumed he was almost done, but he proceeded to talk away, leaving me waiting for a good ten minutes. I wanted to leave, but I really needed to make sure he didn't start another call. We've already wasted almost a whole day.

"Bella?" he said, finally turning to me.

"Hi, James. Jessica said you pulled her for some research. I was wondering if our focus had shifted?"

"Yeah, I need a sample of data to show at the quarterly business review meeting on Monday."

The translation of this from 'James speak' into to factual English is that he has dropped the ball and hasn't prepared for the meeting and is trying to pull something out of his ass last minute. Seriously, it's a quarterly meeting; it's not like he doesn't know when it's going to happen. Everything is always last minute with him. He's supposed to be the strategic lead. What a joke.

"Is real estate viable?"

"It's worth exploring."

"I haven't looked into it, but the offices tend to be small. I don't think the turnover would be very high, so it wouldn't bring in much in the way of numbers. Are you trying to tap into a chain?"

"Do you have a problem with me assigning Jessica?"

"It's not a problem, James. It's just that she was working on securing the ten that I've promised Johnson for Monday the 27th. I'd asked her to have all offers made by close of business today."

"Oh, I get it; you've overcommitted?"

"Not at all. Jessica would have met the deadline had she been working on it I'm sure. We have to deliver on this if we're going to be successful in getting them to commit to using us exclusively."

"It's not all about the clients that you're managing, Bella. We need to look to the future." I hate the way he says my name. He over-pronounces it and clings onto the 'l' sound way too long. I think he might be trying to say it the Italian way, but I'm pretty sure he's Washington born and bred.

"I am. If we can secure exclusivity, it will mean steady growth for us. I've put a report together and some projections. They're also in partnership with a number of businesses that we could reach out to. They're within our demographic. I think it's a realistic proposition. I could look to present that at the quarterly meeting?"

"Send me what you have," he said. "I'll look it over, see if it has any merit."

"I will. And Jessica?"

"Resource your team as you see fit. Let's aim for organized shall we, and touch base on this tomorrow."

I was effectively dismissed. I am still fuming. The condescension of the man; possibly the most inefficient and unimaginative person I know, lecturing me on organizing my team and acting like my idea isn't a good one when it's vastly superior to his. I take a deep breath.

I also know what his version of 'I'll look it over' is; he'll take my work and present it as his own. It wouldn't be the first time that he's used my work to look good. Victoria is so smart. I think she must be able to recognize my work by now. But I have noticed that she gets flustered when James is around. I smart at the injustice of it. He always seems to come up smelling like roses through my hard work. I console myself with the reality that I will continue to have ideas, whereas James will always be a shallow pool.

As I jog up the path, I see Edward standing on the bridge with Stella. It's not a good time to see him. My temper isn't in check. I pretend I haven't seen him, but he calls out to me.

"Hi," I say, coming to a stop, taking an earbud out.

"Hi," he says easily. "Glad to see you're back running. You're looking more like your supple self." His charming manner is further kindle to the fire within me. Flirting with me again, when he has a girlfriend? What kind of girl does he think I am? Fucking men.

"Hm," I say, bending down to pet Stella.

"Bella, are you okay?"

"Fine."

"You seem a little…" he trails off.

"Waspish?"

"You looked it up." His eyes turn wary.

"Yeah, I did. Tell me, what would your girlfriend think about you flirting with a girl in the park?" It's like _Florence's_ "Seven Devils" is spurring me on in my remaining earbud.

He is taken aback and rubs the back of his neck. "I don't know what gave you that impression, Bella," he says, sheepishly.

"So my _supple self_ isn't being flirted with?" I ask accusingly.

"No."

I roll my eyes.

"I _am_ flirting with you. I like you. The no, was no, I don't have a girlfriend."

That takes the wind out of my sails.

"I don't know what gave you the impression I was involved."

"The blonde," I challenge.

"Oh, you've seen Rose walking Stella?"

"Rose?"

"My sister."

I wish the ground would open and swallow me whole.

"You're formidable when you're angry," he ventures. Oddly, it doesn't sound judgmental.

"I'm sorry. I thought you were making a play while being involved with someone." I sound weak. "I'm so sorry."

"Bad day?"

"You could say that."

"It happens to us all."

"It's very gracious of you to give me an out like that."

"It was very gracious of you to talk to me after Stella knocked you over."

"I was rude then, too."

"You weren't. You were just keeping me out. I wish that you wouldn't. I want to understand that curious brain of yours."

I don't know what to say.

He laughs. "My sister is going to burst a blood vessel laughing about this. My girlfriend!" He shudders.

We both chuckle, and the fire in me has vanished.

"I really am sorry."

"Stop apologizing. You were right to call me out if you thought I was with someone. It says a lot about your character."

"That I'm formidable?"

"That integrity is important to you. I like that. Goodnight," he says, and it feels like a caress.

"Goodnight, Edward." I pet Stella and walk away.

I bump into my neighbor Shelley on the way home. She is walking her little Lhasa Apso, Bailey. He's a charming little man. She keeps him clipped with some longer hair on his ears. He's so cute. I am getting lots of doggie time today.

"I'm going in for my operation soon," she tells me. She has issues with her back. "I was wondering if you'd mind helping out with Bailey."

"No, of course not."

It's comforting to have a normal conversation after the surreal encounter with Edward. Edward, who likes me and is flirting with me. I need time to think about that.

We talk logistics, and I wish her well with her operation. Bailey will stay with her daughter while she's in hospital, but she's asked for help walking him when she's home. I don't mind one bit. I love taking him for walks, even if he does slow me down.

 **o0o**

I am seeing Tyler tonight. I want to say I'm excited, but I'm not so much. I'm heading down the stairs with Charlotte and Jessica.

"Is he meeting you here?" Jessica asks. "Will we get to see him?"

I laugh. "No, I'm meeting him at the restaurant."

"No fair!"

"Have fun, Bella," Charlotte says.

I am thanking them and saying my goodbyes as I push open the glass door. I see a man walking towards us, and the light catches his silver blonde hair. It sparks recognition – it's Peter. My heart drop,s and I freeze in place a moment. He is walking towards us with purpose, fury lined on his face. I turn quickly.

"Charlotte, it's Peter. Stay inside and call security."

"I'm on it," Jessica says.

I turn to step inside, and he grabs the door, so that I can't close it.

"Can I help you with something, Peter?" I try to sound calm.

"Can you help me with something?" he mimics mockingly. "Y'all can get out of my way." His eyes narrow, and I think he recognizes who I am for the first time. "And you, _you_ can keep your nose out of my business. Who do you think you are, giving her ideas?" His face is contorted in rage and is close into mine.

"You won't bully me," I say evenly. I let go of the door and move to step back into the building, but he grabs my arm, stopping me. "Let go of me," I aim for authoritative. "You know you're not supposed to be here, Peter." I use his name on purpose.

"You and your high-falutin ideas," he spits. "Making her think she's worth something." I smell liquor on his breath.

"Charlotte has a mind of her own, Peter. She doesn't need me to give her any ideas."

"Mind of her own?" he scoffs.

"Let go of me. We've called for security. There is no need for this to get out of hand."

"Out of hand?" He is incredulous. "You're threatening me with security? Who the hell do you think you are? You prissy little bitch!"

I feel Charlotte behind me, trying to get past, but I am blocking the doorway and I can't move. Peter's grip is digging into my arm.

"Get your damn hands off her, Peter White," she shouts. "It's me you want."

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to?" His eyes are wide with disbelief, and I can see that he's struggling to focus his gaze in his drunken state.

He lunges for her, but there is nowhere for me to go – I am trapped between them. I steel myself for the impact. I'm not sure what happens next. My legs fall from beneath me. I have a thought that I'm grasping at; I am sure I was thinking something, but I can't remember. I can't understand the world around me. I can hear shouting, but it feels very far away. I am aware of a scuffle but it's like I'm in a bubble, and unable to connect with the real world. I am all in my head and my head is hurting.

There is someone above me; they sound panicked, but I can't decipher the words over the ringing in my ears. _What is wrong with my ears?_ I can't see right, but I think it's Charlotte. I'm glad she is safe. _Wait, where is Peter?_ I try to get up, but she soothes me. I can tell she's telling me not to get up. It appears that I'm sitting on the ground. I feel the cold hard brick beneath me. She's doing something to my face, and I can't open my right eye. It's then that I become aware of the hot liquid running down my face. I slowly seep back to myself. Charlotte is above me holding something to my head. I am bleeding.

"I…" I croak, and then clear my throat. Coughing is not a good idea; it feels like my brain splashes around inside my head. "I'm okay," I manage. I put my hand to my head and hold the make-shift bandage. I think it's my scarf. I see that security finally arrived, and they are detaining Peter some twenty yards away. The two security guards stand solid and unmoving, blocking him in a corner. Peter is moving around wildly, a drunken sway exaggerating his movements.

"What happened?" I ask.

"He went for me. I'm so sorry." She is crying. "I was trying to bait him so he'd leave you alone, but he just attacked and sent you sideways into the door. You banged your head pretty bad."

I look at the door. It's fully intact, and there are no smashed bits. I take this as a good sign. But I taste iron in my mouth.

"Are you hurt?" I ask.

"No, the security guy showed up before he could hurt me."

"They say you need to keep the pressure on the wound, Bella," Jessica is telling me. It seems she's called 911.

"I don't need an ambulance." She ignores me, listening to the operator.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am," Charlotte is saying. "Is there someone you want me to call?"

"Yeah, can you get my cell from my bag?" I dial Alice with some difficulty as I only have my left hand free.

"Hi, Alice. Don't worry; I'm fine, but I've hit my head."

"How? What's happened?"

"I'll fill you in later. I was just hoping you might meet me at the ER and take me home?"

"ER? Jesus, Bella! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just routine. But I can't drive there."

"Of course, I'm leaving now."

"Yes, she's conscious," Jessica says into the phone. "There is a lot of blood." She turns back to me and says, "They say it's normal for head wounds to bleed a lot."

The paramedics arrive, and it's all very civilized. He takes a quick look at my eye and I am glad to notice that the bleeding has already slowed, if not stopped. He fires questions at me non-stop and I manage to keep up. I take this as another good sign.

"It's only a really small cut, nothing to worry about," he says. He's young, but clearly experienced. "I know the blood scares people with this kind of thing, but it only looks like one stitch, maybe two." I take heart from this.

Charlotte wants to come with me, but I persuade her that she's better off giving her statement to the police who have arrived now, and I have Alice. An Officer Banner has given me his card to call him tomorrow. Jessica is talking to him at the moment. She is animated, and I see her high pony-tail swaying as she talks. The officer takes notes in his pad.

Alice is waiting when I arrive at the ER. She looks worried and harassed, and I don't help when I turn up on a gurney covered in blood. She is reassured by the friendly paramedic. I learned his name was John on the ride here. I like him. Not least for bringing Alice down from the rafters.

I am reassuringly steady on my feet as I transfer to another bed in a treatment room. Alice helps me fill in some insurance forms and clean up some as I wait for my stitches. I tell her what happened. I think she is ready to commit murder.

Jasper arrives some time later. He is out of breath and his curly sandy hair looks windblown. "Bella, how are you?" he asks, and takes a seat in a nearby chair. His voice is calming.

Alice answers for me. "Some wife-beater pushed her into a glass door, and she knocked her head. It's not as bad as it looks, only a stitch or two. What took you so long?"

"Couldn't get parking," he says. "I ended up parking miles away. I'll go get it and pick you up outside the doors when it's time to leave. Will you be able to go home tonight?" he asks me.

"We have to wait for a doctor to check her out first, before a nurse can stitch her up," Alice explains. "The bleeding has stopped already."

Jasper places a hand on Alice's arm and gives it a comforting squeeze. "Let her speak, Alice." Alice calms at his touch. Her activity is masking her panic.

"I really am okay." I try to reassure her.

"Wife-beater?" Jasper asks.

"He's the fiancé of one of my team. She left him, and he got drunk and came to work to get her, I think. I was in the way."

My phone rings and a passing orderly tells me I can't have it on in here. Shit, it's Tyler! I had completely forgotten about him. "Alice, it's Tyler, I was meeting him tonight. Can you take the call outside, and let him know what happened?"

In answer, she takes my cell and quickly heads towards the exit.

I need to call home, but I am wary of worrying them. I decide to wait until afterwards when I know what the doctor has said.

The doctor arrives, and I go through the same questions I did with John. He is a middle-aged guy with bleached blonde hair that doesn't quite match his complexion. He introduces himself as Dr. Mullen.

"Dizziness?" he asks, as he shines his torch into my eyes.

"Not, now," I say. "I was a bit when it happened."

"Sight?"

"Blurry at first, but then normal within minutes," I answer as he laces his fingers through my hair to feel my skull.

"Any pain anywhere other than the bleed site?"

"No."

"Nausea or vomiting?"

"No."

"Good."

"President?"

"Oh, don't go there."

He smirks. "Date?"

"Wednesday, February, um 22nd."

"Where do you live, Bella?"

"At an apartment in Greenwood."

"Your notes say you only lost consciousness for a matter of seconds?" he asks.

"I don't think I lost consciousness at all. I was just disoriented for a moment."

"You know the man who attacked you?" he asks and eyes Jasper.

I nod, causing me to wince.

"Can we have some privacy please, sir," he says to Jasper.

"Oh, no, it's not like that," I explain. "Jasper is my friend."

"Bella was a bystander in a domestic dispute between one of her colleagues and her fiancé," Jasper explains.

"All looks well in the circumstances," Dr. Mullen says. "There's nothing to suggest that any tests need to happen, no signs of shock or concussion. But you need to be careful with a head injury. Any sign of dizziness, nausea, anything out of the ordinary and you need to come straight back."

"Okay."

"Don't drive for a couple of days; take it easy. Expect to have a headache for a few days, I can prescribe you some painkillers, or are you happy with over the counter?"

"Do you think over the counter will be strong enough?"

"Should be," he says. He writes on a post-it note and hands it to me. "Try these."

"I'll get a nurse to come put a stitch in it, but it'll be dissolvable so you won't have to come back to get them removed," he explains and tilts my chin up. "It does look like some of the impact caught the soft tissue around the eye. You might have a black eye by tomorrow."

"Great. Will I be okay to work?"

"What do you do?"

"I work in an office."

"Play it by ear. See how you feel. It might be worthwhile to take a couple of days off work while you recover. You'll need to be mindful of any psychological effects as well."

"Psychological?" I ask, worried.

"The trauma," he explains. "Being attacked or hurt through violence can have repercussions. Not always. Talk about it with someone."

"Like a professional?" I ask. I eye Jasper cautiously and for the first time ever, feel like he might be evaluating me as a psychologist does a patient.

"Not necessarily, friends, family, someone you trust."

"Thanks."

He gives me some leaflets, and thankfully it's not long until the nurse arrives. Her name tag says Myra Khan. She is pretty and chatty as she takes a look. She talks me through what she's going to do. It's a relief. I much prefer to know what to expect. I close my eyes as she gives me a shot to numb the area. The numbing effect is pleasant once it kicks in and I relax on the gurney. She cleans the area and stiches me up. I have two stiches, in the end, just at my eyebrow.

"It's clean and small," she says. "I doubt it will scar."

Alice and Jasper come into the apartment with me to get me settled.

"I'll stay with you tonight," Alice says.

"No, I'll be fine, I promise," I say. I want to be alone.

"Or you could come to ours? You have to be careful with head wounds."

"Really, I'll be fine. I am just going to go straight to sleep anyway."

"You can't be too careful with a head injury," Jasper says. "How about Alice stays over, just tonight and I'll go home."

"I'll sleep on the couch and give you some space."

"You can't do that. It wouldn't feel right."

"Don't be silly. I want to stay."

"Okay. Thanks."

Alice and Jasper say they're goodbyes.

"Can I get you anything?" she asks when he's gone.

"I wouldn't mind some tea."

She nods and heads into the kitchen. We stopped to pick up painkillers on the way home, and I take two quickly. I want them in my system before the numbing effect of the shot fades away. I know that it's not good to have painkillers on an empty stomach, so as much as I don't feel like food, I follow Alice into the kitchen and force down half a bagel.

Alice helps me put my clothes straight into a plastic bag. John was right – there is a surprising amount of blood for such a small cut. It would seem that my favorite coat is doomed. It was able to come back from a bit of bird poop, but not from this. I will treat myself to a new one.

Alice knows her way around my apartment well. She helps herself to some pajamas and grabs some bed linen from my store cupboard. "I'll just be in the other room. If you need anything, shout for me." She gives me a big hug and I am suddenly glad that she's staying.

"Night, Alice."

I'm not supposed to get the wound wet tonight and I'm not sure I'm up for a shower in any case, so I wash what I can with a washcloth and lay a towel over my pillow before getting into bed. How I love my bed.

I pick up my phone from my night stand and steel myself as I dial home.

When sleep comes, it is like death, and I sink gratefully into nothingness.

 **Author's Note**

 **Thank you for reading. I would love to hear what you think.**

 **Thank you Songster for betaing! I made some changes afterwards, so any mistakes are mine.**

 **Rhian xx**


	8. Chapter 8

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **Posting a day early as I'm busy tomorrow :)**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 8**

It is dark. I am deep within the darkness. It clings to me. There is a patch of gray ahead, signaling some chance of light, but—no matter how quickly I move—I can't reach it. I think perhaps I am the darkness, and I take it with me.

The strum of my alarm brings me out of the dream. I curse the noise that feels louder than usual. It reverberates around in my skull. The movement hurts, as I reach to turn it off. I have set my alarm to call James this morning. I am sure he already knows what happened last night, but I want to call in sick today.

"Morning," he answers, sounding bright.

"Hi, James," I say.

"I heard about last night, Bella. I hope you're calling to say you're not going to come in today?"

"Exactly," I say. "I'm thinking that if I take today and tomorrow, and what with the weekend, I should be good to come back Monday."

"I think it's for the best," he says.

"Thanks. I'll check my calendar and make sure I cancel everything and rearrange for next week. But can you check in with my team? I know there are at least three deadlines Monday. They were on track yesterday, but it's worth touching base."

"Of course. Don't worry about it. Take care." Credit where it is due – he's not always an asshole.

I clear my diary as I said I would. There isn't too much to move, thankfully. If I was ever going to get assaulted, this was pretty good timing.

I see the hallway light come on. My door is open ajar, so it creates a beam of light in the otherwise dark room. Alice pops her head around the door.

"I heard you on the phone. How are you feeling?" She comes to sit on the edge of the bed.

"My head hurts, but that's to be expected. I was just calling work. I'm going to take the rest of the week off."

"I think that's a good idea. Can I get you anything before I leave?"

"No, thanks. I think I'm just going to go back to sleep. Thanks for staying."

"It's nothing. Get some sleep."

"Is Jasper picking you up?"

"Yeah."

"Have a good day."

"Call me when you wake up to let me know you're still okay, yeah?"

"Sure."

Alice turns the light off as she leaves, and the room returns to darkness. It feels like my dream, but now I feel like the darkness is my friend. I turn over, snuggle under the duvet, and clear my mind for sleep.

It's after eleven when I wake naturally. I feel groggy, like perhaps I've slept too much. I am glad for the serenity of my bedroom. The furniture is all retro pieces that I've whitewashed and distressed. The décor is muted, and the only burst of color comes from my bedding. I have a blue flower print set on at the moment. I have feather pillows and a feather duvet that makes it feel luxurious. I am reluctant to relinquish the warmth of my bed, but I need a cup of tea and a shower.

I have a few texts on my phone, but my eyes feel too sore to read them now. I call Alice, as I promised I would. I'm lucky to catch her in between meetings. I boil the kettle and make tea while we chat. My tea is warming and soothes my parched throat. I have been using sweetener, but today I think I am entitled to real sugar.

My shower is harder than I had expected. I am steady on my feet, and I have put a waterproof bandage over my cut. It's not the logistics of it. It's the red in the water at my feet that disturbs me. It runs red for what feels like a long time as I stand under the jet of hot water. The bathroom has steamed up by the time it runs clear. I taste the salt of my tears as they slip down my face and join the water at my feet.

I call home when I'm dressed. I say dressed, but really I have put clean pajamas on. Mom answers, "How are you feeling, sweetie?"

"Not great, but it's to be expected, I suppose."

We talk for a while, and I have another little cry. "Ignore me," I say. "I'm just feeling sorry for myself."

"You're entitled. Of course, you're going to be a bit emotional. Are you sure you don't want me and your dad to come over?"

I had only just succeeded in persuading them not to drive over last night. "No, Mom, it's fine. It's not worth the drive. I'll be home next weekend for your birthday anyway."

I would welcome the comforting presence of my parents, but I only have one bedroom and it's a near four hour drive. I would put money on the fact that dad would go to the station to talk to Officer Banner, and I'd rather not have him weigh in. I am sure he is furious that I've been hurt. Mom has likely kept him off the phone on purpose.

"Seth is going to come over after class," she says. Seth is studying at the UW in Seattle and lives on campus, so isn't far away. "Call him if you need anything. He can pick it up for you rather than you having to go out."

"I think I have everything I need."

By the time I've had breakfast, I'm not sure what to do with myself. Having time off during the week is foreign to me. I decide to tackle the messages on my phone. There are a few from people at work wishing me well and checking up on me.

A message from Jake says: _B, so sorry to hear what happened, let me know if there is anything I can do. Sorry I've been a dick lately x_

Alice must have let him know. I text back: _I'm fine. Don't worry. A little knock won't keep me down x_

There is also a message from Tyler that reads: _Sorry to hear about what happened last night, sounds awful. Let me know if you need anything x_

I type out a reply: _Thanks, hope you weren't waiting for me long, I feel awful. I'll be okay though. Taking the rest of the week off work to recoup x_

He texts back straight away: _God, don't worry about me, you were assaulted! You are safe right?_

 _Perfectly, thanks x_ , I reply.

I have some Match notifications too, but I'm not in the mood. I don't bother reading them.

I get cozy on the sofa and watch some Outlander. I have been re-watching the second series and only have a couple of episodes left. It is grueling, jumping between times, and there is some real heartbreak for the characters. But I find the love story between Jamie and Claire so compelling that I can't stop watching it. I'm a bit of a masochist when it comes to love against the odds. The series is very well done, and the actors' chemistry is unrivaled.

There is a scene near the end where their lives are at stake, and Jamie is sending Claire away to save her. He says, "You must go home!" She replies, " _You_ are my home." As they part, Jamie talks of facing the punishment for his sins as he contemplates his death. He says, "When I stand before God, I will have one thing to say to weigh against all the rest. Lord, you gave me a rare woman, and God, I loved her well."

This is why I am single, I think. I want to be loved like that. I want someone to think that I'm a rare woman. These are the ideals that I aspire to, and they just don't exist in real life. I make my way to the kitchen and grab a spoon and the jar of Nutella.

Alice calls mid-afternoon to check in. She wants to come around with groceries later. I let her know that Seth has me covered today so she says she'll call in after work tomorrow instead.

Seth arrives at about six with a bunch of flowers and some pizza. Mom is behind it, no doubt, but it's lovely either way. Flowers never fail to make me smile, and these are my favorites – stargazer lilies. They smell divine.

I have avoided the mirror all day. I don't want to see what I look like. Seth's face tells me that I was right to avoid it. He looks sad and angry, at the same time. "Come here," he says and wraps me in a bear hug. He gives great hugs. He's tall and encompasses me completely, and he's always so warm. Sue is descended from the Quileute Indian tribe, and Seth's rich, tanned skin is in stark contrast my pale complexion.

"You look like hell, Bells," he says. My family is nothing if not straight-talking. "Even paler than usual."

"You try going a round with a reinforced glass door, and we'll see what you look like," I retort.

We watch some TV while we eat the pizza. It's nice having Seth here; it makes it feel more like home.

"So does this Tyler guy think you blew him off?"

"I don't think so. Alice spoke to him last night and he text today."

"We'll have to get you an eye patch, can't go sporting that shiner on a date!"

"I don't really feel like dating anyway."

"It's okay to take a break, or ditch this Tyler guy if you're not into him. But whatever you do, don't let that jerk mess up your plans."

"I won't."

"So what's going to happen with this guy that hit you?" he asks.

"He didn't hit me. He pushed me out of the way."

"Semantics."

"I called the station today. I have an appointment at the police station tomorrow afternoon to give a statement. He's out on bail. The police said that he'll be arraigned next week. I think that's where he'll enter a plea. I'll find out more tomorrow, I imagine."

"Haven't you talked to Dad?"

"Not yet. I think it's best if he calms down first."

"You think he'll ever be calm about this?" he says angrily. "I'd like to give that bastard some of his own medicine." Seth never swears. The anger on his face and tension in his fisted hands is so unlike him, that I barely recognize my little brother in that moment. I scooch over and rest my head on his shoulder. Luckily, he's to my good side.

"Do you want me to come with you to the station? I don't have any classes tomorrow afternoon."

"No, it's fine. Don't worry."

My appointment with Officer Banner is at two in the afternoon, so I allow myself another lie in on Friday. I seem to be sleeping a lot, but I guess I need my rest. I gave in and had a look in the mirror this morning. The cut is neat and the stitches too – it's hard to believe such a small cut could have made so much mess. But it's swollen, and I have bruising of varying degrees around the whole of my right eye socket, and my eye is bloodshot.

The prospect of going out looking like this is daunting. I'm not usually overly concerned what people will think, but it feels different when I am battered and bruised for everyone to see. There isn't much sun, but it's bright, so I think I'll get away with sunglasses without drawing attention. I think they would help with my headache, too. I don't bother with makeup, it's pointless. I pull on jeans and a sweater and head downtown. I get the bus as my car is still at work. I've brought my keys, so I can drive it home.

Officer Banner puts me at ease and gets me a glass of water. He asks me to call him Bob. He has dark wavy hair and lines around his eyes. I notice a photograph of him and what looks like his wife and two children on his desk.

"That's a lovely photo," I comment.

"Thanks. It was taken a couple of years ago now. The boys are growing at lightning speed. Now, I have taken brief statements from your colleagues and the security officers last night. But I'd like you to tell me in your own words what happened. I will have some questions to make sure we have all the details we need. I will write up what you say and have you read it before signing it. Any questions before we begin?"

I don't and proceed to tell him what happened. He has some questions about the logistics and draws a small diagram to help me explain the positions we were in. It takes a surprisingly long time to capture the detail that he wants.

"We charged Mr. White with second degree assault given how serious your injuries appeared last night," he explains. "But now that we know the extent of the injury, it's likely that his lawyer will be able to negotiate this down successfully."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that the prosecutor might agree to a third or fourth degree assault classification. In real terms what that means is less severe sentencing. Given that you were in the middle of a domestic assault and that he was in breach of a restraining order, there are aggravating factors."

"What are the possibilities?"

"A few months of jail time, fines or it could even be dealt with through probation if his defense attorney can negotiate fourth degree."

I don't know how I feel about this. He takes me to a different room where a police photographer takes my photo. He takes his time, getting different angles and close ups. The light is bright and the process feels quite intimidating. By the time I am in my car, heading north on the I5, I am drained and looking forward to getting home. I have missed a dose of painkillers, and I am paying the price for it.

By Sunday I need to get out of the apartment. I want some fresh air, so I head to the park. It's not exactly fresh—it's gray and damp to be specific—but I was starting to feel cooped up at home. There is a tension in me, deep down in my bones, that I am looking to shake. I have left the sunglasses at home and think it's time to get used to being out and about. I have work tomorrow, and I can't cover up there.

The swelling has gone down a bit and I think that I'll be able to make it look better with some cover up for work. I think getting back to the office sooner rather than later will be good for me. I might try to have calls with clients this coming week rather than face-to-face meetings, so I don't have to explain anything.

I only have a four-day week as I have taken Friday off to go to Forks for the weekend. It's my mom's birthday. My mind wanders to my other mom. I'm concerned about Renee. I got a late night phone call from her on Friday. The time of the call in itself is worrying. It was one in the morning. It's a sign that she's not thinking things through. I could tell she'd been drinking, and she was sobbing. It's understandable that she's upset that I've been hurt, but I don't think that she's coping with it. I gave Phil a call this morning so that he can keep an eye out for the signs.

I smile when I see Edward and Stella walking towards me. I think they might be the tonic that I need. Stella is on the lead; she must still be in the bad books. "Hi," I greet them brightly.

Edward's shock is obvious as he nears. My joy at seeing them fades a little as I realize it won't be a casual chat in the park. Not that anything feels casual with Edward, if I'm being honest with myself.

"What happened?" he asks urgently. He steps forward quickly as if to reach for me, and my body steps back without me telling it to. His frown deepens but he steps back, giving me space. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"You didn't," I say. Of course, he's going to want to know what happened. Perhaps, I should talk to him about it. I feel I can't be completely honest with my friends and family, because they'll worry too much. "Want to get a coffee?" I ask.

He looks surprised but says yes quickly. He gives me space as we walk towards a café he knows allows dogs. He makes small talk and I pet Stella as we go. She is almost up to my waist now. I finally remember to ask what type of dog she is.

"She's a Labrador-husky cross according to the vet," he says. "I think I see the husky more."

"I thought there was some husky in her."

"She's a rescue dog," he elaborates. "I was working on a project, and she was left in a cardboard box on site. She was in a bit of a state."

"Oh, no. How could someone abandon her?"

"Beats me. I hadn't thought to keep her, but when I saw the pound, I just couldn't leave her there. It was so sad with little cages and dogs with sad eyes. It smelled bad, too."

"That was good of you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I want a dog so bad, but I'm not at home enough."

"I remember you saying. It explains a lot, actually."

"Okay, I'll bite – what do you mean?"

"Why you make friends with dogs at the park."

"Fair."

"Is Stella your only friend or is she in competition?"

I laugh. "I have been known to pet quite a few dogs at the park, but she's my only regular." I laugh harder when I realize how it sounds.

"I didn't realize you were a pro," Edward says laughing.

Edward insists on getting me tea and leaves Stella with me while he stand in line. She is beyond adorable, boisterous for sure, but there isn't a mean bone in her body. She sits and rests her head on my knee. The warmth is comforting. Her fur is so thick and soft. I dig my fingers into it and scratch her neck. She makes a little contented rumble in her chest.

Edward sits down next to me on the bench rather than taking the chair across from me. He has what looks like a latte for him and hands me my tea.

"Will you tell me what happened?" he asks intently.

I tell him the whole story, starting with what Charlotte told me about Peter. I see him tense when I talk about Peter turning up at work last week, the ensuing argument, and eventual visit to the E.R. He listens without interrupting with opinions or questions, just empathizes at intervals and squeezes my hand when I tell him about my head injury.

"I hate to think of you going through that," he says when I've finished.

"It's not the highest point of my life, for sure."

"How are you really?"

"I'm okay. I'm getting on with things. There's no use dwelling. Don't get me wrong, I've had a little cry and taken a couple of days off work. But I'm going back tomorrow."

He looks more concerned than our brief acquaintance warrants. He is a compassionate person, I think.

"You put on a good show, but I'd be willing to bet that you're suffering more than you let anyone see," he speculates.

It's the truth, but I don't like how it makes me feel. "Isn't all life a show?"

"Who are you pretending for?"

"I'm not really pretending. I don't think it's a bad thing to put a brave face on things."

"No, not at all. I'm not criticizing. I'm just trying to understand you."

I frown.

"I'm sorry. Am I annoying you?"

"No, I just think you already understand too much."

"You're an interesting character, Bella – wait, what is your surname?"

"Swan."

"Figures. It fits so well. You're an interesting character, Bella Swan."

"You make me sound like a specimen in a lab. Have you brought your microscope?"

He laughs. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. No microscope, I promise. You do interest me, though. I think you're a bit of an onion."

"You better not be calling me Shrek!"

He laughs again. "See, there you go, deflecting. You're so good at it; I bet most people don't even realize what you're doing. You definitely have layers. But the question is; do you let anyone far enough inside to know you?"

The question is an uncomfortable one. I don't answer, but I think the answer is usually no.

"You're incredibly independent. I imagine this must be really difficult for you," he speculates, not unkindly.

"This?"

"Well, you're strong and brave. I imagine you've half convinced yourself that you're invincible. Then, this _Peter_ ," he says the name with disgust, "has showed you—in the worst way—that you're not." I can tell he's not trying to provoke me. I have the irrefutable sense that he is on my side. And he's right.

"How could you possibly know that?"

"I know plenty about you. I know you don't like accepting help," he answers. "I know that from when you wouldn't let me help you, after Stella hurt you in the park. I know that you're kind, because you didn't shout or blame her or me."

I lean back to take a good look at his face; it's earnest and something else, maybe even fascinated. I notice how close we'd gotten as we talked, like an unconscious leaning into each other.

"I know you're strong from the way you called me out when you thought I was dating my sister," he laughs, bringing some levity. "I know that you're selfless, because you protected your friend."

I let his words sink into me, and I decide not to hide from them. My eyes water.

"And you feel a lot more than you show. But it's okay, you can let go sometimes. With me, if you want."

"You want to know how I feel?"

He nods.

"I feel brittle. Like at the tiniest knock, I could shatter."

"What's the worst thing that could happen if you let loose with your emotions?"

I focus on petting Stella. It's such a simple question; the right question, as I am coming to expect. The tears slip and fall down my face. It's the deepest fear that I have, the oldest I remember, one that I rarely dare to acknowledge, even to myself. The fear, that if I let go, it will consume me. That if I let myself lose control; that I'll be like Renee. I can't voice it. I pick up a napkin and blot at my cheeks.

"This is embarrassing."

"No, no, don't be. I asked you to open up. I didn't mean to make you cry though; I'm sorry."

He places his hand over mine and gives it a squeeze. I feel the presence of his hand, long after he moves it. "I have big shoulders, if you need someone to lean on."

I nod and he puts his arm around me. "Is this okay?"

I answer by not shying away from his embrace. He smells and feels so good. Even in my emotional state, I am very aware of him as a man. Stella scooches even closer, and I am surrounded by comfort.

"This feels very one-sided," I say after a while.

"Well, you are the one with the black eye and stitches."

"I can only agree to this, if it's two-way. I have broad shoulders, too. You know, metaphorically."

"Shall I tell you more about me so we're even?"

"Yes, please."

"As for the simple stuff, I was born in Seattle, and my folks still live here. I have a sister named, Rose, but you already know that," he says winking. "She's trying for a baby with her husband, Emmett. He works in construction, so his contacts here will be helpful in relocating the business."

"You said you're an architect?"

"Yes, I studied in L.A. and stayed on there afterwards. For the more complex stuff, I had a girlfriend named Tanya. I moved back here after we broke up. It was a long time coming. I can't believe I stayed as long as I did, in hindsight. It wasn't, still isn't, amicable."

"You're still in touch?"

"We have a house together. It's not sold yet, and she's still staying there."

"Are you okay?"

"I am," he says. "But it's really been a learning curve. I've been thinking about who I want to be, and what kind of life I want – the big questions."

"Do you have any answers?" I ask, moving back to look at him.

"Some," he says. There is a whole world behind his eyes, and I find that I want to understand him, too.

"Can I walk you home?" he asks. "If you're ready?"

"That would be nice, thank you." I am getting better at saying yes, I think.

 **Author's Note**

 **Thank you so much for reading. I'm having such fun writing this, I hope that you're enjoying it too. I would really like to know what you think.**

 **Huge thanks to Songster for betaing.**

 **Rhian xx**


	9. Chapter 9

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 9**

I am driving home to Forks with Seth. I know the route like to back of my hand. I have lived in Seattle since I moved there to study at UW at the age of eighteen, so I have driven it many times. I use the Kingston Ferry and take Route 101 through the Olympic Park. The scenery is stunning on a bright day, but it is lost on me now as I drive through the dark.

"Do you mind if I give Renee a quick call?" I ask.

"Go for it."

I want to check in with her to see how she's doing. I give my phone the voice command to make the call and it sounds through the car speakers.

"Hi Bella," she says. "I was just thinking about you. How is your head?"

"I'm good. I don't have headaches anymore, and the swelling has completely gone." I don't mention that the bruising is still there. "I'm just driving up to Forks with Seth."

"Hi Seth," she says. "Are you looking after my girl?"

"Hi," he says. "I'm trying to, but she won't even let me drive."

"You know how she is about that car…"

"Yeah, I do." He scowls at me through the darkness.

"You know I can look after myself," I say to Renee. "But everyone's been good. My team got me some beautiful flowers."

"That's great," she says. "When are we going pick our dates this year?"

"Perhaps I should come to you next," I suggest. "I'll have a look what I've got scheduled over the next couple of months and see when I can take a week off."

"Please do, I haven't seen you in ages! It's so hard not seeing you at Christmas."

"Thank God for modern technology," I say. I got her an iPhone so that we can FaceTime.

"But there are benefits right?" I prompt. We play this game where we list the good things.

"Not having to do your laundry," she starts. I think she forgets how old I am sometimes.

"Getting to be excited when we see each other, instead of seeing each other all the time," I say.

"Not having to deal with her awful driving," Seth chips in.

"I am a good driver," I defend. "Would you rather walk?"

"What shall we do next time?" I ask Renee.

"Erm, I'll have a think. It will depend when you come. Maybe we could go somewhere together and have a proper vacation?"

"That would be great."

"I'll look up some things to do."

"That sounds like a plan. I am excited already! I better go, Mom, speak soon."

"Bye, bye, darling."

"How is she doing?" Seth asks.

"I think she's okay. I was a bit worried about her last week, but maybe it's passed."

"Is Phil in the loop?"

"Yes."

It's not long before Seth dozes off, and I am left to my thoughts and Imagine Dragons on the car stereo. It's been a good week at work. I walked in on Monday to find the most beautiful bunch of flowers on my desk – coral-colored roses and large oriental chrysanthemums in white. James told me not to worry about attending the quarterly meeting—which I had thought was to make it easier for him to showcase my work as his own—but I was pleasantly surprised to be wrong.

Victoria doesn't always work in the office but was there for the meeting. She came to me afterwards to see how I was doing.

"You know if you're not ready to be back yet, no one will think any less of you," she said. "Everyone knows how hard you work, and the work that you've done with Johnson is impressive. I think we're on the cusp of great things. James shared your projections, and I think your idea of chasing their partners make so much sense."

"Thanks, Victoria. I appreciate it. I'm fine to be back; I only have a four day week anyway. I have Friday booked off. Shall I carry on with my research?"

"Definitely, I have a meeting in ten, but get my assistant to check my diary and schedule a meeting to plan next steps."

"I've been noticing that Johnsons are struggling with people management during this growth spurt. I've been thinking that perhaps we could provide support. Even if just as a consultant, we have such good practices here."

"Interesting," she says. I can see the workings of her brain play across her face. "Let's get that meeting set up and talk about it some more."

"Thanks."

"No, thank you, Bella. Enjoy your long weekend."

It was quite affirming to hear and a great start to the week. Charlotte has been quiet, but I've made sure we talk often so she doesn't think I blame her. Officer Banner called this morning to say that Peter's arraignment is set for next Wednesday. They're expecting him to enter a guilty plea for third degree assault, but we won't know for certain until the hearing.

I've been running in the park twice, but haven't bumped into Edward and Stella. I find that I miss them when they're not there. I wonder whether Edward and I should have exchanged numbers, if we're going to be friends, or whatever it is that we are. I have thought a lot this week about the last time I saw him. Perhaps I do hold too much inside. Is it really so bad to show how you feel? I only really let go with Mom, and then it's in moderation because I don't like to upset her. Edward is incredibly insightful, and it makes me feel almost naked; like he can see right inside of me. But haven't I craved for someone who can understand me?

My mind has also been turning on some very old ground. I met with Jake this week. He came around and I cooked dinner, leek and cheese pies that I know he likes, after work on Tuesday.

"These pies take me back," he said. "I remember you cooking them for us when we were living at Nordheim Court."

Jake and I met in the first year of college. We moved to on off-campus apartment for the second year with our friends Angela and Eric. Angie was my best friend at the time, and she studied business, too. She was from a little town called Sappho, not far from Forks, so we shared the experience of moving from a small backwater town to the big city. Jake was studying bio-chemistry and shared some classes with Eric who was studying Biology. We were a good foursome, but two guys and two girls can get complicated, and it unraveled. I was glad to move out of the apartment by the time our finals came around.

Despite the way it ended, I have some of my best memories from my time at Nordheim. I am sad that Angie and Eric are no longer in my life. I feel differently now, than I did back then. Time and perspective can change a lot of things. I have done a lot of growing up between my early and late twenties. I can better understand things from other people's perspectives now, and I am much more certain of who I am which makes me more confident, I think. Match has been good in that respect; if nothing else, it's really made me think about who I am and what I might want from a partner.

I've let things drift with Tyler. We're texting now and then, but we haven't arranged another date. I don't know that I'm entirely bothered if I see him again or not, and I think that is a problem. I haven't known him long though, and it does take a long time for me to form attachments. There are exceptions to the rule though – Alice snuck into my heart very quickly. She was there for me when I needed her and it's not something that I take lightly. Maybe certain people know how to get in. I think Edward might be an exception, too.

I am bone-weary by the time we reach home. It's almost eleven and the drive has been a long one after a day at work. The porch light is on, waiting for us as I pull into the drive. My parents still live in the house where I grew up. I like my life in Seattle, but I _love_ the feeling of coming home. I believe the saying is correct; absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

"Here you are!" Mom says when I open the door. She takes my face in her hands and has a good look at my eye. She wraps me tightly in her arms.

Dad comes through from the kitchen. "Hi Bella, Seth. I've just put the kettle on for some cocoa," he says.

"Perfect," I say. I hug him on my way to the kitchen and bury my face in his chest. He's so solid, in more ways than one.

We sit around the kitchen table for a little while before heading to bed. Dad wants to know about the case, and I tell him what I know.

"I can't see a second degree charge sticking, but with the domestic violence and that he was in breach of restraining order, third degree should. I'd expect him to plead guilty with the evidence."

"Yeah, the officer said as much."

"A guilty plea will mean less in the way of sentencing for him, but would mean no trial, and you won't have to testify. Did this Banner say anything else?"

"He said that they'd expect his attorney to negotiate the charge down in exchange for a guilty plea. I hope so." I don't want to go to court and have more disruption to my life.

"I hope so too, Bells. But just say the word, and I'll be there in Seattle whenever you need me."

He is keeping his temper in check, but I can see how much it's costing him. He is less obvious in his examination of my eye, but I catch him looking at it as we talk. "I hate the thought of not being there to protect you."

"I'm a big girl, Dad. I'll be okay."

"It makes me feel better that Seth is there if you need him." He pats him on the shoulder. "I wish you kids would stay local though. I miss you."

"How is your project coming along, Seth?" Mom asks.

"Good," he says. "I'm just finishing up the essay. I've finished the plans. I'm quite happy with them."

We chat a while longer about nothing in particular, just catching up. Leah is missing, but she'll be around tomorrow no doubt. She lives down at the Quileute Reservation near La Push with Sam, her boyfriend.

The feeling of being home is healing, and I head to my old bedroom with a smile on my face. It's exactly how it was when I left it at eighteen, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

I wake to the sound of chatter in the kitchen. My bedroom is above the kitchen. It's in contrast to my solitary existence in Seattle. I lie in a little while longer before venturing downstairs. I smell bacon coming from the kitchen, and my stomach growls.

"Morning, sleepy-head," Mom greets me. "You must have been tired. It's not like you to sleep in past ten."

"Must have needed it."

"You're just in time for breakfast."

Mom has gone to town. She is transferring some bacon to a serving dish. There is already a plate of sausages, scrambled eggs, and toast on the table.

"This looks great," I say, sitting down.

We tuck in. I find myself telling them about Edward and Stella, my new friends at the park. Mom and dad exchange a glance.

"She's the most adorable ball of fluff you'll ever see. Not that she's little. She's huge. Edward is an architect, Seth. If I get to know him better, I'll ask him about jobs for you if you like?"

"That would be awesome. Do you know if he's any good?"

"No, but he said he had his own business so he must be alright."

"Where did he study?"

"In L.A., he said."

"Not at the Southern California Institute of Architecture?" he asks in astonishment.

"I don't know. He did say he went there for the quality of the school. Why?"

"Well that's where it is; it's prestigious. Like majorly. Hey, what's his surname?"

"I don't know."

"Shit, it's not Edward _Cullen_ , is it?"

"I don't know," I repeat.

"Language," Mom chips in.

"Sorry," he says.

"Who is Edward Cullen anyway?" I ask.

"Only the guy who designed the new Amber Tower in L.A.," he says, like I should know what this means. "It's a big deal. Google it. I've done a project about his work."

"I'll ask him."

I spend the day not doing much at all. Dad is playing with an old car that he's fixing for fun and Seth helps him out. Dad is stooping awkwardly because of his back but denies it when I ask about it. I sit on the porch awhile, wrapped up in a blanket, holding a warm cup of tea watching them work.

Mom joins me for a bit. "I remember how you used to sit out here for hours," she says. "Usually with your nose in a book."

"Always," I say. "It's nicer in the summer."

"How are things going with Tyler?"

"They're not really."

"How come?"

"I'm not really in the mood for it. A black eye isn't a good dating prop either."

"You don't have to be perfect all the time, Bella. It's not a weakness to be vulnerable sometimes."

"I'm pretty sure that's a contradiction in terms, but I'm hearing that a lot this week."

"Who else told you that?"

"Edward."

"You need to show someone your vulnerable side to let them in, sweetie."

"I'm not good at it."

"I know! He sounds nice."

"He is. I like him. I went for a coffee with him this week. He wanted to know about my bruises and I thought it was better that we go sit down somewhere."

"How was it?"

"It was nice. Comfortable in a way but also not."

"How do you mean?"

"He's insightful. He sees a lot."

"That might be good for you."

"Maybe," I say, thoughtfully. I certainly had let Edward see my vulnerable side. In fact, he's probably seen more sides to me than Tyler. He's seen me angry, sad, and beaten up, and hasn't been scared off. Strange that he always seems to be there for the bad stuff. Maybe we should try to do something fun so he can see my happy side.

"I guess we know what happened to Tyler," Mom says and heads inside.

I'm still on the porch when Leah arrives. She looks thin and is wearing what looks like a perma-scowl. We get on well enough. There were the usual frictions as children, finding our way in a new family, but it all went away when Seth was born. We were united in our love for him, and we were the protective older sisters. Somewhere through the years, the roles shifted and now Seth fills the role of protector, and Leah and I seem to have lost our bond a little.

"That doesn't look good," she says, gesturing at my eye.

"I know, I'm debating whether to get a patch until it goes," I joke. She doesn't laugh.

"That bastard," she says, and fury reverberates in her voice. "How _dare_ he touch you."

"Thanks, sis," I say and give her a rare hug.

I like having Leah looking out for me. She is fierce when she wants to be, and nobody would want to mess with her.

"Is Sam coming?" I ask.

"No," she answers. "He'll be here Sunday though for Mom's birthday lunch."

"How's work?" I ask. Leah is an administrator at the school on the reservation. Sam teaches there.

"I think he's cheating on me," she blurts.

"Sam? Never."

"I really think he is." There is pain in her voice. "There's this new teacher, Emily. She's little miss perfect, and her tits are perfect too. She is happiness personified."

"Is there anything worse? No one likes someone who's overtly happy all the time."

"Right?" She gestures widely with her hands but her annoyance doesn't mask the worry in her eyes.

"Sam knows bullshit when he sees it. What makes you think there's something going on?"

"I saw them together." She looks smaller somehow, like her body has rolled into itself. "You know how I help with the afterschool group on Wednesdays."

"Yeah."

"Well, we take both cars so he doesn't have to hang around waiting for me. I saw her getting in his car with him. I trust Sam. I wouldn't have thought anything of it. But when I got home I asked him if he'd been anywhere, and he said he came straight home. You know how I feel about lies, Bella."

"I do. Have you talked about it?"

"I want to, but I just can't bear for it to be over."

"Maybe it won't be, and it's just a misunderstanding."

"And maybe it's not." Her tone is bleak. "I asked around to find out where she lives to see if maybe he gave her a ride and didn't think anything of it. She lives in the other direction."

"I don't think he'd do that to you. But if he has, we'll plot a murder, create some really good alibis… Between us, we have some skills. Letting Dad in on it might be tricky, but I think we could swing it." I'm successful in gaining a small chuckle but her eyes are sad. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too. I'm sorry about your eye."

I'm in bed reading by the time I remember to look up Edward. What was it Seth said? Edward… it rhymed with sullen, I'm sure. Mullen? No, _Cullen_.

I type 'Edward Cullen' into the search engine and find a website. It's a business site, for Cullen Architecture. It has some skillful photography of some stunning buildings, both inside and out. It has all the usual stuff; what services they offer, an 'about us' section. Interestingly, it does say that this Edward Cullen was born in Seattle. I wonder if it is my Edward. I mentally chastise myself. He's not _my_ Edward.

I take a look at the news section, and there he is staring back at me – Edward from the park. He looks divine under the bright L.A. sun. It brings out the auburn in his hair, and his green eyes are vivid. He's opening Amber Tower. It's amazing to look at. It's an unmistakably modern design but with hints of history. It's an eclectic mix of modern and old that works very well in my opinion.

There are some photos of the inside too. There is a glass structure that reminds me a little of the Louvre, but he's used colored glass and it forms a spherical shape. Beams of color strike out like the light of a star. I think that Amber Tower is a fitting name. It reminds me of light in the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. I wonder if Gaudi is one of his inspirations.

I navigate back to Google and see an article named _Living Legends: The Ten Top Architects of Our Time_. He's there at number six. I feel like I'm snooping. But I read the article before closing the page anyway. Well, Edward Cullen it is. Seth will be psyched.

On Saturday, we girls head to Port Angeles for some pre-birthday shopping. Mom wants us to help her pick out some new clothes, and we have lunch at an Italian place. It's nice spending time together, just the girls. Seth and Dad have gone fishing for the day. Man time, they call it. A film and some drinks are on the cards for this evening.

Sunday is busy. Leah and I cook breakfast so mom can have a lie in. Leah stayed over last night.

"Happy Birthday!" we say in unison when mom comes into the kitchen.

"Morning, girls. Something smells good."

"We're making pancakes," Leah says. "But it's the bacon you can smell. Are the boys up? We can eat when they are."

"Dad is up, but I think we might need to wake Seth."

"I'll do it," Leah says with a devilish grin.

We have breakfast together before giving mom her gifts. She is sitting surrounded by wrapping paper and gifts when she says, "I am the luckiest woman in the world."

From Charlie, I got her a delicate gold necklace with small plain discs at intervals that she put on straight away. I got her a Liz Earle perfume with rose, jasmine, and sandalwood that she seemed to like. Seth did good on a budget and got her the new book by her favorite author and some pretty flowers. Leah got her a spa treatment of her choice. All in all, she did pretty well. She has lunch planned with some of her friends tomorrow, too.

We have a late lunch celebration rather than dinner as Seth and I have to drive back to Seattle this evening. It's a nice relaxed affair. Leah and I have done the cooking so that mom can sit back and enjoy. Sam has come, and I watch him closely to see if I can see any differences. He seems as devoted as ever. I don't see anything different in his eyes or the way he looks at her, only in her response.

"I miss you both already," Mom says as Seth and I say our goodbyes. Leaving is always bittersweet.

I give Leah an extra tight hug and whisper in her ear, "Call me if you want to talk."

There is still light in the sky so we get to enjoy the scenery for some of the drive home.

"I can't believe that you're dating Edward Cullen," Seth says.

"We're not dating. It was just coffee."

"Well, I can't believe you're getting coffee and flirting in the park with Edward Cullen. He is practically royalty in the architecture world. His dad is Carlisle Cullen." Again, he says this like it will be of some significance to me. I look at him briefly in question. "He is a big deal. We study from some of his texts."

I find it a little intimidating. Edward has always seemed out of reach. Now, he seems more so. He belongs to a world I know nothing about. But it doesn't lessen his allure, and I find I am as drawn to him as ever.

About three things I am absolutely positive. First, Edward is something special. Second, though I am unsure to what extent or in what context, he seems genuinely interested in me. And third, I am undeniably drawn to him. My mind keeps coming back to thoughts of him on the long drive home.

 **Author's Note**

 **I guess we know a bit more about Edward now. A bit more about Bella, too. I hope you're enjoying the story – I would love to hear what you think.**

 **A huge thank you to Songster for betaing! Particularly for sorting out my commas and pointing out my brit-speak. I made some changes afterwards so any mistakes are mine.**

 **Also, I want to say thank you to those readers who are following and reviewing every chapter – I can't tell you what it means to me. Special thanks to Fran and Lizzie for promoting this story on Facebook.**

 **Rhian xx**


	10. Chapter 10

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 10**

"Did you enjoy your weekend with the folks, Bella?" Jessica asks me on Monday morning.

"I did thanks. It was great to get home."

"Did your mom like the necklace you showed us?"

"Yes, it seemed to be a hit."

It's nine thirty and my team are all here except for Charlotte. "Has anyone seen Charlotte today?" I ask.

"Yeah, she's in the bathroom, I think," Jessica answers. She leans in to say more confidentially, "She doesn't seem great. She said she wanted to speak with you."

I decide to go to the bathroom to check on her. Sure enough, she is in there, and she's crying, mascara running down her face.

I give her a hug. "You were being so strong. We all need to let go and have a cry sometimes."

She hiccups some before she can get out, "You're going to be so disappointed in me."

"Don't talk crap."

"But you are."

"What's happened?"

"I just can't do it. I'm not strong enough to leave him." She wipes her eyes with tissue, smearing the black mascara along her face.

"What do you mean? You've already left him."

"But he's never going to let me go. Even if he gets jail time, it's not going to be long. And the truth is I don't want him to go to jail. I'm so sorry for what happened to you, Bella, but I can't turn my feelings off. The thought of him in jail is awful." She wipes at her mascara again. "He did so much for me. He's the reason I have this life in Seattle. I could still be stuck in that small southern town with a mother who hates me."

I refrain from pointing out the irony. "Have you seen him? Has he said something to make you feel this way?"

She shakes her head; but I don't believe her.

"But I'm not crying for him, I'm crying because I don't want to face you and do this." She weeps into her tissue.

"Do what?"

"Is there any way that you'd drop the charges?"

"What? Why would I do that?"

"I said I'd ask you. I didn't want to." She hiccups some more. "I don't want him to go to jail."

"Peter told you to ask me, didn't he?"

She looks at me straight in the eye for the first time and she looks like a small child caught in a lie. She doesn't answer, just looks at me.

"That means he breached his restraining order again. He could be arrested for that."

"I'm withdrawing my statement, and I'm going to talk to the police about the restraining order."

"Charlotte, it's not my place to tell you what to do, but it's not his either. Don't let him manipulate you."

"I just can't face it. I would be losing him and the apartment all at once. Then I'd have to find another job too, because he'd find me here when he's out. He'd find me anywhere."

"I think you should talk to a professional. I can't give you advice about this, but it doesn't seem like you're making this decision. It seems like he's telling you what to do. Has he threatened you?"

She just looks at me again, not answering, mascara tinted tears streaming down her face.

"It's hard to leave him. It's hard to have to start again, but look at you." I turn her gently so that she's looking at her reflection in the mirror. "This is hard too, and it's certainly not happiness I see."

I see misery and fear. What does she see when she looks in the mirror? How much has Peter manipulated her view of herself? I leave her in the bathroom. I feel heartless, but I can't comfort her. I can't make her feel okay about this. Two wrongs don't make a right, but I wish I could get my hands on Peter. How dare he think he can manipulate me through Charlotte? How dare he manipulate her! I grab my coat and cell phone and head outside to call home. Mom answers and I ask for Dad. I need his cop brain. I tell him what happened.

"There isn't anything you can do to help her," he says. "I know that's not what you want to hear, but she needs to make the decision for herself, no matter how good your intensions are."

"I know, I told her it's not up to me." A big gust of wind blows my coat open. I turn away from it and hunch my shoulders against the cold. "I just can't believe that she's gone back to him. She seemed so confident, so certain. It's obvious that she's gone back because she's scared to leave him, but I thought she'd gotten past the hardest part. It's no way to live."

"He scared her so much with the knife," he grits out the word, "that she felt she didn't have a choice other than to leave. But now that the dust has settled and that weasel is trying to manipulate her again, her priorities are shifting. The realities of starting over are scary."

"I just can't believe it," I say again. "It's not my battle, but I feel defeated."

"It's not on you, honey. Whatever you do, do not withdraw your statement. What Charlotte chooses to do, is up to her, but no one hurts my daughter and gets away with it. You can't let him."

"I won't. I just wanted to talk it through with someone." The wind is blowing my hair in a messy tangle around my head, and I try futilely to control it with my free hand.

"He won't get much jail time, if any now, but he deserves that conviction on his record. It's insane that he has a clean record with the violence that he's perpetrated against that young girl."

"Dad, you haven't been looking things up have you?"

"Never you mind. He knows that he needs to plead guilty on Wednesday, based on the evidence we have against him. That's why he's gotten to her, to see if he can make some of the evidence go away."

I notice the _we_ and think that he's definitely been at the station with Andy looking at police files. Surely that is illegal.

"With Charlotte withdrawing her statement and the restraining order, it means that his lawyer will be able to get fourth degree assault, no doubt," he continues. "Peter will know that, the devious bastard. I've seen it before."

"The sentencing doesn't bother me–"

"God, Bells, it sounds like you're in a wind tunnel."

"Yeah, it's real windy all of a sudden. I was saying that the sentencing isn't a big deal, but I won't withdraw. I know Jessica gave a statement. Do you think I should talk to her? Charlotte might try to talk with her too."

"It might be worth it. Make sure she knows that you're not withdrawing."

"Okay. Thanks."

"I'm glad you called me. And don't worry about the charge not sticking. There is the physical evidence as well as the witness statements."

"But what if he says that it was an accident? It wasn't me that he was trying to hurt."

"It doesn't matter. He doesn't have to have intended to hurt you. Being reckless is enough and he was certainly that. It was obvious that you would be hurt. It doesn't matter that you weren't the intended target."

"I better get back to work. Bye, Dad."

I realize that this is exactly what Charlotte is missing – a support net. I know that if I fall my family will catch me, no matter the trouble, they will be there to help me. It's such a powerful thing; the feeling of safety that a good family can provide.

I catch Jessica later in the day while Charlotte is on lunch.

"This is awkward," I say, "I'm not talking to you as a manager now, just a colleague. The thing is that Charlotte has tried to get me to withdraw my statement."

"I figured the tears meant he was back on the scene. What is she thinking?"

"She's afraid. I just wanted to let you know that I won't be withdrawing my statement so would appreciate it if you won't either, if she asks you."

"No way! I would like to crucify him for all he's put her through, let alone what he did to you. It's open and shut anyway. He was in public for chrissakes. I won't be withdrawing anything, Bella. You can count on me."

"Thank you."

I go running that evening. As I approach the park, I am conscious that I'm hoping to see Edward. Stella, too, but mostly Edward. I lack my usual focus on the route, and I am scanning the park, hoping to see him. It doesn't seem like I am in luck, but just as I am on my way out of the park, he walks in with Stella.

"Bella! I'm glad I bumped into you." His smile is bright and an emotion I can't name swells inside of me.

"Hi, Edward." I lean down to pet Stella.

"I'd suggest a coffee, or tea, I should say. But Stella will be too wired to sit if she doesn't get her walk. Walk with me?"

"Yeah, sure. I could use the cool down. We should maybe do something when I'm not all gross and sweaty in running gear."

"I wouldn't say no, but there is absolutely nothing gross about you." His eyes roam over me. I don't think there is a detail that escapes him. I feel the hair rise on the back of my neck. The blush in my cheeks is no longer just from exertion.

"How have you been?" I ask.

"Not my finest week, I have to admit. But I'm okay." His usually open expression closes a little. That line between his eyebrows appears.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really. I was in L.A. last week. I had some things to sort out."

His frown deepens. "Not nice things, I gather."

"No," he says emphatically. "I did something stupid a while ago and had to clean up the mess last week. Sorry, it's not your problem." He shakes his head as if to banish some dark thought.

"No, but my face wasn't yours either."

"I want to tell you, but maybe another time?"

"Sure."

"Anyway, enough of that. How was your week? Your eye looks a lot better." It's just some faint yellowish bruising now.

"Good," I say. "I went to see my parents for the weekend. It was my mom's birthday."

"Where do they live?"

"A little town called Forks, the other side of the Olympic Park. It's where I grew up."

"I bet it's beautiful out there," he speculates. The worry has left his face, and I see the Edward that I am used to. "The Park is something else, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I spent quite a lot of time there as a kid."

"Me, too. We'd go there for the weekend and camp."

"I don't do camping. Day visits only."

"The look on your face!" He laughs. "Definitely no camping."

"No camping." I shake my head decisively.

"What was your childhood like?"

"Happy," I say. "My mom and dad split up when I was only little; I don't remember it. Dad married Sue, my stepmom when I was four. It's one of my earliest memories; being their flower girl."

"Was it her birthday?"

"Yeah."

"Any siblings? You said you had a brother, right?"

"Yeah, that's right, and Sue has a daughter, Leah. We were in the same class at school. They had Seth soon after they were married. Did you tell your sister that I thought she was your girlfriend?"

His face creases with laughter. "I did. She found it hysterical. She literally couldn't stop laughing, she was trying to talk but I could only make out a word here and there."

I chuckle.

"Where is your birth mom?" he asks.

"Florida, she lives with her husband, Phil. I'm planning to go on vacation with her in the next few months. Not sure where yet." Stella stops to have a good sniff of a tree trunk. "She loves her walks doesn't she?"

"Yeah, she does." He pets her on the head, and she leans into his hand.

"Any particular reason you called her Stella?"

"Funny story," he says. "The night I took her home she curled up on crate of Stella Artois. Not the classiest or most original way to name a dog, but there it is. It's not that funny a story on reflection, though."

"It suits her. I'm pretty sure it means 'star.'" I look up to the sky. Though it's getting dark, the cloud cover is too dense to see the stars.

"Really? That would have been a more sophisticated story. I find it funny that you both rhyme. Bella and Stella – it's like you could be a duo."

"We'd make a great duo." I reach down to pet her and plant a kiss on top of her head. Edward has a funny look in his eye. I hope I haven't overstepped.

"What brought you to Seattle?" he asks.

"College, I studied Business at U-Dub."

"You said you worked in recruitment?"

"Yeah, I manage a recruitment team downtown."

He nods. "I can see you as a recruiter. I think you're perceptive."

My eyes widen. "That's high praise coming from you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you saw through me like a piece of cellophane last time we talked." My tone is resigned, maybe even a little grumpy, but I have come round to the thought of Edward reading me well.

"I've been trying to figure you out for months."

"Months? I don't understand."

"All those times I tried to draw you into conversation and you kept it all polite, distant…" I can't quite make out his expression. He's intent – factual rather than joking, if I'm reading him right.

I don't quite get his meaning. We used to say hello, comment on the weather, that type of thing, but nothing more.

"I understand now, I think, why I couldn't draw you out." A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth like he is pleased with himself. "I thought at the time that you didn't like me, or maybe you were with someone. But now I know that you thought I was with someone."

I frown. I'm not sure what to do with this information. Is the glorious Adonis from the park, that I've secretly pined for, telling me that he has been hitting on me this whole time?

"Maybe you didn't notice because you thought I was unavailable?" he speculates. "I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that you do like me, even if just a little." His smile is broad now. There is a surface confidence, but I'm not sure how deep it runs.

"Maybe." _Play it cool, Bella._

"So, the shrug guy, what's the deal there?"

"Pardon?"

"When I asked if you were dating anyone special, you shrugged. So I'm wondering – is he still on the scene, or can I make my move?"

"Your move?"

He stops and turns me towards him. "I'm checking if you're single, before I ask you out."

"I'm single."

"Then in that case, what are you doing Friday night?"

I smile. I feel my whole face come alive with it. "Going out with you?"

"Damn right you are." His smile is huge and victorious. It makes him look so much younger. It occurs to me that I don't know how old he is.

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-three, for my sins. You?"

"Twenty-nine."

"Can I walk you home?"

"I'd like that."

When we get to my apartment building, he reaches into his pocket and gives me his business card. "Text me your number?"

I take the card and read it. _Cullen Architecture_ is written in bold red lettering.

"I had an interesting conversation with my brother on the weekend," I say.

"Yeah?"

"I was telling him about this Edward that I had met at the park. I told him that you're an architect and that you used to work in L.A. He got all excited and was like, 'it's not Edward Cullen is it?' I said, I'd ask you, but I guess now I don't have to. He's doing a project about you."

He rubs the back of his neck. "Well, if he needs any help, I have an inside line…"

I laugh. "That's sweet."

"You told your family about me?"

"I guess I did."

His smile is that broad, megawatt grin again. "Text me, or call me. We can arrange Friday."

I think my answering smile might just be the same one.

 **Author's Note**

 **Hi everyone! I cannot thank you enough for reading and reviewing. I really like to hear your thoughts.**

 **Big thanks to my beta, Songster, who is brilliant. I made some changes afterwards, so any mistakes are mine.**

 **Rhian xx**


	11. Chapter 11

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 11**

I save Edward's number on my phone and type out a text: _Hi Edward, here's my number. Bella x_

I enjoyed my walk in the park with him and Stella. Was he really trying to get my attention all that time? I can't quite get my head around that. He might have a point about me closing my mind because I thought he was taken. But added to that, he's just so attractive that I wouldn't have thought I'd be a blip on his radar, especially as I usually see him at the park when I'm in running gear and often without makeup.

I ponder about the mysterious mess in L.A. It's probably something to do with his ex, Tanya, I think he said her name was. I want to know more, but don't want to pick at a sore spot. I can tell that it _is_ a sore spot.

Edward, texts back: _Hi! I have been thinking, instead of Friday, are you free Saturday?_

I reply: _I am. What are you thinking?_

 _Can I surprise you? x_

I am not good with surprises. But don't I want to step out of my comfort zone?

I reply: _No fair! How am I supposed to know what to wear?_

 _Walking shoes._

 _Just walking shoes?_ I reply.

 _Now THAT thought is intriguing, but perhaps clothes might be a good idea in Washington? It is March after all ;)_

I haven't had time to reply before he texts again: _I can't believe I'm encouraging you to cover up! I fail as a man._

I laugh as I reply: _Clothes it is. But now I have a good idea what we're doing…_

 _Stop it 007, I will surprise you!_

 _Yeah, how?_

 _Stop it! I'll pick you up at 10am? X_

 _It's a date :)_

 _Did I really read you right the other week?_ he asks.

I type out: _The part about me making friends with dogs at the park or the part where you wanted to study me like a specimen?_ I delete it. I'm deflecting. Again.

What he said about me pretending has played on my mind. I do pretend. I pretend at work. I even pretend with Alice sometimes. I let my guard down most with my mom. I think my fear of letting my emotions get out of control, like Renee, has made me bottle them up. Mom says I'm a swan through and through; graceful on the surface and paddling furiously beneath the water.

I reply: _You're very perceptive, Edward Cullen._

 _Annoying or endearing?_ he asks.

 _It's flattering, you being interested enough to notice._

 _Have no doubt, Bella. I am very interested._

 _I'm looking forward to Saturday. Goodnight xx_

 **o0o**

I've been ready since nine-thirty and am wandering aimlessly around the apartment waiting for Edward. It's the longest half hour I've ever spent. I am on edge. Choosing an outfit was tricky. Running shoes aren't the most attractive footwear for a date, so I compensate by choosing a blouse with a large flower design in various shades of blue. I team it with a mustard cardigan that I think will be a nice contrast. I have my new navy coat ready and waiting on the arm of the chair.

At long last, my apartment door buzzes and my heartrate spikes as I head downstairs. Edward is leaning against the stair railing, waiting for me. He looks edible. But his hair is a little messier than usual, like he's been messing with it, and a piece falls into his face. My fingers twitch to move it and I realize that now we're on a date, it's not entirely inappropriate. I brush the stray lock back into place. His hair is soft to the touch, and thick.

"Hm, that feels nice," he says, letting out a contented sigh. I like the sound.

"Yes, it does."

"Your carriage awaits," he says, gesturing to a big white Range Rover. He opens the door for me to get in. It's shiny and pristine, with a 'new car' smell.

"Do I get to know where we're going now?" I ask as he gets in.

"Nope. Let's see if you can work it out." He executes a seamless U-turn and heads north.

"Luring me to an undisclosed location doesn't seem legit. What if you're a serial killer?"

He laughs a loud belly-laugh. "I'm not a serial killer, I promise."

"Well, that's what you'd say if you _were_ a serial killer. I've seen _The Fall_."

"You have a point. But now that I have you, you may as well go with it. You can't get away." He winks at me.

"Wrong. I am pretty capable, you know."

"I don't doubt it."

"My dad's a cop. I know things."

"Hell, I should have asked you what your parents did before I sneaked you away. My serial killer abilities aren't up to scratch." He shakes his head like he's disappointed, but can't help a chuckle. "What's _The Fall_?"

"It's about a serial killer in Northern Ireland. Excellent cast. Absolutely terrifying. I made the mistake of watching it alone."

"That scary?"

"Well he targets professional women around my age who live alone. It wasn't my best idea."

He laughs.

The haunting melody of "Clair de Lune" on the piano fills the car. "This is nice," I say. "You like 'Clair de Lune?'"

"I do. I have a few classical playlists I like to listen to when I work. They help me relax."

"You wanted to relax this morning?"

"I'm not the only perceptive one." His hands tighten on the steering wheel. "Yes, I felt the need to relax. I was excited to see you." He sneaks a sideways glance at me and winks again. Edward winking is surprisingly sexy.

"Me too." I let out a breath.

I recognize the route well as we head towards the ferry terminal. I think that my suspicions about Edward taking me to the Olympic National Park are on point. We walk up to the passenger deck to take in the view for the crossing.

"I'm so glad that it's a clear day," I say. "There's nothing quite like the salty air of the Puget Sound in your lungs."

I breathe deeply. It feels refreshing and makes me feel more alive. I'm glad that the sun is shining, and I watch how it dances on the waves. Edward stands close at my side, our arms touching. There is a new energy about him today. Perhaps I'm just noticing now that we're in date territory, but there is a tension crackling between us.

"So tell me some more about your work," I say as I look out at the Seattle skyline. "Seth told me about a building you've just finished in L.A."

"Yeah, Amber Tower. It was completed a few months ago. I have a few clients I'm working with at the moment. I'm thinking of taking on a few residential projects. I'm researching some plots on San Juan Island. I think I'd like to live there some day."

"Oh, so a plot to build for yourself rather than for work?"

"Maybe both. I'm not sure yet." He shrugs a little.

"Why did you choose to study architecture?"

"My dad is an architect, so I was exposed to it at an early age. But it's not just that; I like to create, to build. I like the beginning when I get an idea and it starts to take shape in the plans, and then the feeling of accomplishment when it's standing. The science fascinates me."

"I imagine that is satisfying. Tell me about Amber Tower. I might have looked it up online," I admit guiltily. "But I'd like to know your take on it."

He doesn't seem to mind. "I wanted to create something beautiful. I hope that I did. It's on the dramatic side, but it's how I was feeling. It was a journey for me, cathartic. The truth is that I wasn't happy; I felt trapped and it was an escape."

"How so?" I shift so that I am angled towards him. I want to see his face.

"You sure you want to talk about this on our first real date?"

"I want to get to know you better, so if this helps do that I'm in. But it's okay, if you don't want to."

"I'd rather not dwell on the past, but, yes, it might help you know me better, so here goes. Tanya was one of my first clients. I had landed an internship with a firm for my first job after graduating. She was, still is, an artist, and she has the temperament that goes with it. Am I boring you yet?"

"Not even a little. So, by artistic temperament you mean dramatic?"

"Yes, everything is a drama. At first, I found it exciting; there wasn't a dull moment and everything seemed more vibrant."

"I can relate."

"You can?"

"Yeah, Renee, my birth mom is a bit like that."

"With Tanya, there was a lot attached that wasn't as enjoyable. She wanted to always be at the center of everything and wanted to do everything together. She only ever sees things from her own perspective. It's strange because at times she can be wonderfully caring, but I don't think she really has the ability to empathize."

"That must have been tough. Where were you and your feelings?"

"Isn't that just hitting the nail on the head?" He lets out a long sigh. "I tried to make it work. I thought that's what you do in a relationship, but in hindsight, I tried too hard and too long. I found myself changing things about my life to suit her, but nothing I ever did was good enough and she always wanted more."

"Can I ask how you changed?"

He frowns. "She was possessive of me; she didn't like me having friendships with other women, so I…" he trails off.

"It's okay. You can tell me anything or nothing at all." I reach out to squeeze his hand that is resting on the railing.

"You have no idea how refreshing you are."

"I'll take that as a compliment?"

"Definitely."

We move through the water leaving a trail of white foam behind us, and the wind fills the silence for a while before he continues.

"It was small things along the way that didn't seem that significant at the time. But when I started to think about all the ways that I had adapted to avoid a fight; hiring male staff at the office so she wouldn't get jealous, not seeing my female friends, it started to seem ridiculous."

He pulls his hand through his hair, and I can see where that messy bed head look he has sometimes comes from.

"Even more so when I think that she changed nothing for me. We had huge arguments when I would try to talk to her about it. I tried to tell her that I was feeling trapped and changing to avoid her temper, and that just fired off an ever bigger fight. She just didn't get it and she never changed a thing."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks. This is too heavy for a first date; you don't need this."

"Edward, seriously, you comforted me while I cried in a café before you even asked me out. Frankly, it's a miracle you still wanted to ask me out," I say on a laugh. "I think we fast-forwarded through some of the normal dating rules."

"I guess so." His smile is hesitant, but warm. "Thanks, Bella. It's so easy to talk to you."

"So tell me what happened, if you want to?"

He looks out over the Puget Sound and the retreating Seattle shoreline as he continues, "It became a constant battle. When I would feel manipulated, I would call her on it, and I was always the bad guy and she'd be the one in floods of tears. She would phrase everything like it was for my benefit, because she loved me so much. It was all the more manipulative, but I just couldn't get her to see it."

"That must have been really difficult."

"Yeah and some. And one day, I just couldn't do it anymore. I told her so and I moved out straight away. And of course, that just confirmed that I'm the bad guy. I hated to hurt her, but I had to get away and just be me. That sounds selfish doesn't it?"

"No, it sounds perfectly reasonable to me. I'm no expert, but I don't think you should stop being yourself because you're in a relationship. You have to work at it, of course, but you can't change who you are to suit someone else. And I don't think someone who loves you would ask you to."

"I've not really told anyone that before," he says quietly.

"I'm glad that you felt you could tell me."

He kisses me somewhat chastely on my temple, but that charge electrifies and seeps into the marrow of my bones. I lean into him.

"You're a live wire," he whispers into my ear.

Back in the car heading west, he says, "Tell me what you were like at school."

"Not part of the cool crowd, but I had some close friends. I bet you were a cool kid right?"

He grins in answer. "I bet you were smart."

"I got good grades. How old were you when you were adopted?"

"A baby."

"Do you know anything about your biological parents?"

"Not a thing."

"Do you ever wonder?"

"Rarely. I have an envelope, I think it's from my birth mother, but I've never opened it. I have my family."

"And Rose, your sister, is she older or younger than you?"

"Younger, my parents adopted her when I was four. But she was already two, so not much of a difference in age."

"What kind of brother are you?"

"Protective when she was little. We had the usual taunting relationship as we got older, and that stuck." A cheeky smile stretches across his face. "She's an easy target. I guess I am, too. We're not very close, but more so now that I'm back in Seattle. It's nice getting to spend more time with them."

"What makes you an easy target?"

"I get them all; taking myself too seriously, building large buildings to compensate for something—which I'm not, by the way—trophy girlfriend, though she can't sling that one now. Wait, I'm not saying that you're not... I mean you're beautiful, but I wouldn't assume you're my girlfriend. Hell..."

I watch him as he gets flustered. It's in stark contrast to his usual composure, but I've seen it a few times now. "I like it when you get flustered. You seem more human."

He gives me a skeptical look, but I can see he's relieved that I'm not offended. "More human? As opposed to what?"

"Erm, as opposed to the Adonis from the park."

"Adonis, really?" He seems to like this. "I like that about you."

"What?"

"That you don't give me a hard time when I put my foot in my mouth."

He joins Route 101, but unlike my journey back to Forks, he heads south. We are going to the Olympic Park for sure. As the terrain gets worse and we are essentially on a bumpy dirt track, I say, "Well, I was tempted to mock you for having a four-by-four in the city, but now I get it."

"Not far now," he says.

The trees are so dense that it's almost dark in the car, and that tension rises between us. What is it about darkness that changes the mood? I concentrate on the passing scenery. The lush green of the foliage and the quiet of the forest make me feel like I've entered another world.

It's not very long before the road comes to an end and he pulls up the car. Edward grabs a backpack out of the trunk and turns to me. "Ready?" he asks.

"As I'll ever be."

He leads the way through the forest, seemingly following no marked route. I can't see or hear any sounds of human life.

"Are we headed anywhere in particular, or just a ramble?"

"I want to take you to a special place. It's somewhere I found when I was younger."

"It's so quiet here," I say. "There are so many trails and tourist attractions. I'm surprised you have found somewhere so private."

He puts a finger to his nose in a gesture of confidentiality.

"Ah, so it's a secret."

"Absolutely. If you tell anyone, I'll have to kill you."

"Luckily for you, and perhaps for me, my sense of direction is pretty bad."

We walk a while in comfortable silence as we navigate the tricky terrain. Edward is very attentive, pointing out loose stones and forging a path through the undergrowth. I like how he holds my waist as I jump down from a large fallen tree trunk.

Later, he asks about the films that I like, and music. Music it turns out is a shared passion, and we talk for some time about our favorites and what we're listening to at the moment. We follow a small river for a while and then start climbing towards higher ground. It feels warmer out of the shade of the trees.

"Shall we break for lunch?" he asks.

"Sounds good to me. I didn't know you were a boy scout."

"I'm not."

"Well, you are very prepared. What's your secret?"

"Maybe I up my game when I'm trying to impress a girl." His words are cocky, but his smile is shy.

"What have you got there?" I ask as he opens the bag.

"Some soup, that should still be warm." He hands me a metal thermos. "Some nice bread to go with it, and some snacks."

He pulls out a blanket and spreads it on a nearby fallen tree trunk. We both sit and he pours the soup into large mugs and hands me one with a spoon. It's delicious and it is still warm.

"This is yummy. What's in it? Tastes like root vegetables?"

"Yeah rutabaga, I think, but I don't know for sure. It's my mom's secret recipe."

"You got your mom to make me soup?"

"It's the best," he says with a shrug.

"It is."

"Olive?" he offers.

"Don't mind if I do." I chose a large green olive. It is salty and juicy. "This is really nice, Edward."

"We haven't even gotten there yet."

"What's there?"

"You'll see."

Once we've eaten he says, "Are you ready to head out?"

"Yep."

"We haven't got that far to go."

We continue to climb for a while and the trail has become more arid, with less greenery and more stones as we get higher. The views are spectacular with the snow topped peaks in the distance, and the forest to our backs. As we round the corner, I expect him to keep climbing and follow the trail, but he forks off to the right and into the trees again. We descend back into the lush green of the forest. I see brightness ahead and Edward leads us to a clearing. He stops and gestures for me to take the lead.

It's a meadow full of wild flowers that I can't name. Purple is the dominant color, but there is an entire rainbow of colors when you look close. I turn to see Edward watching me from the tree line. "This is beautiful."

His smile is broad and bright. "I'm glad you like it. I was worried that the flowers might not be out. But it's warm for March."

"They're glorious." I wander around for a while, looking at the different flowers, taking in the beauty. The sun is bright in the sky, and Edward is right; it's unseasonably warm for March. The warmth seeps into me, and I take off my jacket.

I feel Edward's eyes on me and look up. He's spread the blanket on the ground. "Sit with me?"

I walk to him and kneel on the ground at his side. He looks at me intently, and I think he is going to kiss me. He does, but not in the way I expect. He presses a kiss to my forehead. His lips are warm and soft. "I'm so glad you said yes, Bella."

"Me too."

We stay there in the meadow, whiling away the afternoon together. It's nice to just be. We haven't stopped touching the entire time. It's all very innocent, like we're exploring each other. He draws circles on the back of my hand, tucks my hair behind my ear, and I think I catch him smelling my hair. At one point, I lie in his arms looking up at the sky above. The comfort I feel in his arms is out of proportion for the length of time I have known him.

The light has started to fail by the time he suggests that we leave. He takes us back a different way and it's a quicker route back to the car. The sun makes its final descent beyond the horizon as we take the ferry home. Edward is standing behind me, an arm on each side of me as I lean over the ferry rail.

"I had a really good time today. Thank you," I say, leaning back into his embrace a little. The intimacy between us feels natural.

"I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing." His breath tickles my neck and I shiver. "Hm, you're sensitive." His voice is low and seductive. He places a gentle kiss just behind my ear and I feel the hairs rise on the back of my neck in anticipation, and I try to resist the second shiver with only partial success.

"I want to ask you to come back to my place tonight, but I know if I have you in my house I won't be able to keep my hands off you. I don't want to rush this," he says emphatically, putting some distance between us. "So, would you go out to dinner with me instead?"

I usually don't want to drag a date out. I am happy to go out and have fun, but then happy to go home. But I realize with Edward, that I don't want the date to end. "Yes," I answer.

"You _are_ getting better at saying that." He smiles in triumph.

 **Author's Note**

 **Thanks so much for reading! I'm having such good fun writing and would love to hear what you think. Please leave me a review.**

 **Big thanks for my beta, Songster for sorting out my commas! I made some changes afterwards so any mistakes are mine.**

 **Rhian xx**


	12. Chapter 12

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **There weren't any updates sent out for the last chapter, so please scroll back and read Chapter 11 if you haven't already :)**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 12**

"How about I drop the car off of at my house so we can have some wine with dinner?" Edward suggests as we drive off the ferry.

"Sure, that would be nice. I could drink a nice glass of wine."

"I can show you my place." He peeks my way, but I can see little of his features in the darkness of the car. "I promise to keep my hands to myself, though."

I lean my head back on the headrest and look at his profile against the light of the street lamps. "Who said that I wanted you to keep your hands to yourself?"

He lets out a loud breath. "Do you have any idea how tempting you are? I think it's smarter if we get to know each other a little better first. Don't you?"

"I suppose this is our first real date, and I don't have sex on the first date. It's a rule."

"There are rules?" I can just make out his grin in the glow of the streetlamps.

"There are always rules. I'm not always that good at keeping to them, but I do stick to that one."

He reaches over to grasp my hand in my lap. "So, do you want to see my place?" His thumb trails slow circles on the back of my hand.

"Yes." I place my other hand over his, and I enjoy the intimacy.

"It's not quite me, but close. I'm just renting a place in Broadview for now."

"Is Stella there?"

"No, she's with Rose today."

"Do you share her?"

"No, well sort of. She's my dog, but Rose helps out. She looks after her when I'm in L.A. I usually fly so it's too much stress for her to come along. Rose will come over and take her for a walk now and then too, which is how you saw her and jumped to conclusions." He nudges me with a smile on his face.

"It's not exactly far-fetched."

He chuckles. "I guess not. Still funny though."

Edwards pulls up onto the sidewalk in front of a large metal gate. A moment later it opens and he pulls into a wide driveway in front of a modern looking house. The gate closes automatically behind us. He may have said it's not exactly him, but I can see why he chose it. It fits the style that I would expect, having seen his work. It's three stories high and has lots of large glass windows, with a garage to the side. Edward parks the car and leads me up some stairs to the front door. His movements are quick and economical as he opens the door.

The space is open, all clean lines and shiny surfaces. The windows must provide spectacular light in the daytime. It's not to my taste; there are too many hard edges and not enough character. But it's indisputably well done.

"Want the tour?"

"Lead the way."

There is a shyness about him, now that we're in his space. He is even more solicitous than usual, and I get the impression that he was brought up to be a gracious host.

We start at the top of the house. The master bedroom is on the third floor. It has large concertina glass doors and a veranda. It faces away from the street, and all I can see is darkness for what must be miles, then small lights in the distance.

"Does this look out on to the Puget Sound?"

"Yeah, it was a deciding factor."

"Wow, that must be some view in the daylight."

I turn, and he's standing by his bed barefoot. The bed is large and inviting. Edward is tall, around six-two, I'd say. He has broad shoulders and is beautifully toned. He has taken his sweater off and his tee drapes on him attractively. I see a hint of his chest at his collar. I don't think collar bones have ever looked so sexy. I've certainly never got hot over them before.

"Come," he says, holding a hand out to me. "I can't concentrate with you in here." I take his hand, and he shows me the master bath.

"This bath is something else." It's a free-standing, claw foot bath. It's deep and ancient looking, though I imagine it's new. "This is like my dream bath."

His eyes smolder, and I think he's imagining me in that bath. It's flattering, and unnerving. Just the idea of him excites me. This feels so _new_. But I am out of my depth here, and I know it. I think he's right about waiting, at least a little while, so that I can acclimatize. I feel like I am on a precipice, and that if I were to surrender to him now, that I'd fall into the abyss. I try to regulate my breathing, and take care to leave the bathroom without touching him.

On the second floor, there are guestrooms and his study. It's a large room that is obviously used a lot. There are sketches on the walls, and models placed haphazardly on a large table in the middle of the room. There are a host of tools that I can't name. I notice a model of Amber Tower on a cabinet to the side.

"I haven't opened an office here yet, so I'm doing quite a lot of work from here," he explains.

I move to get a better look at Amber Tower. "It's very beautiful," I say. I have only seen it the once online, but I imagine this is a scale model. I can even see the colored stained glass inside the lobby.

"Thank you. It was a labor of love, for sure. Did I tell you it was a dedication?"

"No, you didn't." I turn so that I can see his face.

"Well, my parents couldn't conceive successfully – that's why they eventually adopted Rose and me. They tried many times, but mom miscarried. One baby made it longer than the rest. Mom rarely talks about it, but when she does, she always says how tiny and red she was. They called her Amber."

"That's a pretty name. And a lovely thing to do, Edward." He smiles humbly. "It's so sad for them. I bet they were overjoyed when you came along."

He shrugs.

"You don't think that you make them proud?"

"I'm sure I do in ways, but in other ways, not so much."

"You're very successful." I gesture with my hands at our surroundings, indicating his career and achievements.

One side of his mouth lifts up, but I can't call it a smile. "Success looks different from the other side."

"How so?"

"I don't know – it's hard to describe. You have ambition and dreams, and you work like hell towards them, but somehow when you achieve them – they don't seem to matter as much as they once did."

I smile a sad smile. It's such a dreadful shame that he doesn't enjoy his success. I imagine he's wrong, and his family beam with pride. How could they not?

"I wouldn't know," I quip, hoping to lighten the mood.

"You're kidding, right?" He looks genuinely confused. "You're successful."

"In my little flat with my middle-management job?"

"Yes, you! You're intelligent and have a business degree. I've never gotten the business side of things quite right. Then, there's just you."

"Me?"

"I think you have the ability to make yourself happy. You're not afraid of your own company, and you know yourself well. I think that's very powerful."

When he says it like that, I guess he has a point. I've never really thought of it that way before. My train of thought is broken though – as I walk back towards Edward, I knock a sketch book to the floor. "Sorry," I say, quickly bending to pick it up.

It has fallen open, and the images drawn in pencil give me pause. On one page, my own eyes stare back at me. I'm looking straight out from the page, hair falling in my face. I look politely inquisitive. My lips hint at a smile but no more. On the other, I am looking down, but the joy on my face is evident. My eyes are in shade, the light seemingly coming from above, and thick lashes hide most of my eyes. The crinkles around them are unflattering, I think, but likely accurate.

He looks abashed when I look up to see him. He's rubbing the back of his neck in that nervous gesture I now recognize. "Busted. I hope you don't mind."

"They're quite the likeness," I say. Does his talent know no bounds?

"Thank you." He points at the first. "This is how you would look at me in the park." Pointing at the second, he says, "This is how you would look at Stella. I was jealous of my own dog. I wanted you to look at _me_ that way. You did today." He says it like it is a great victory. He takes the book from me, and our fingers touch in the exchange. It feels electric. The hair rises on the back of my neck, and there are butterflies in my stomach.

"That look in your eyes…" he says. "God, you tempt me." He takes my hand quickly and leads the way downstairs.

"This is a great kitchen," I say. "Do you cook?"

"Not much. I mean I don't starve, but I'm no chef." He leans his hip against the kitchen island.

"I love to cook." I skim my hand across the smooth marble worktop.

"Perhaps you'll christen it for me one day?" He tilts his head to the side, and it reminds me of Stella so much that I struggle not to laugh.

"I have a few recipes up my sleeve."

"I think you have a lot up your sleeve." His expression has completely changed, and I don't miss the double-entendre. How can he make that sentence sound sexy? We are both silent a moment. Then he moves towards the door and the moment is broken. I am glad. Part of me wants to rip his clothes off and have sex right here in his kitchen, but it's too soon.

I notice that he's putting on shoes rather than his hiking boots. "Can we swing past my place, and I'll change to some more dinner-worthy shoes?" I say.

"Sure. I'd like to see your place."

We cut through Carkeek Park to get to my apartment. I realize as we walk that I had thought he lived to the south of me rather than north, as he headed out south from the grocery store.

"So when you headed south from the grocery store…"

He is silent a moment. "Busted again," he says, but doesn't explain.

"Are you going to elaborate?" The night is cold and I huddle inside my jacket. Edward notices and wraps an arm around me.

"I wanted to walk you home, so I said I was going that way. I'd already invited myself shopping with you, and I didn't want to push my luck." His hand grips my upper arm and periodically rubs it to warm me.

"Were you really going shopping?" I tilt my head to try to see his face, but the angle is too awkward. All I can see is his chin. God, he has a great jawline.

"Nope." I feel his body shake with contained laughter.

I laugh out loud. "I did think your shopping looked a bit random! But how did you know I lived that way?"

"Um..." He releases me to look at my face, somewhat apologetically, I think. "That day when Stella knocked you down, I was worried about you, and I wanted to make sure you got home okay."

"You followed me?" I can hear the surprise in my voice.

"I'm sorry. I'm not a creepy stalker, I promise. You just looked so frail and I didn't want you walking home alone."

I feel like I should mind. I feel like this would have bothered me a lot had I known it then. But after this wonderful day, and with all that we have shared, I find that it doesn't bother me at all. In fact, I think that I quite like it. I might have to analyze that later.

It is my turn to feel shy as I let us into my apartment. My clumsy fumbling with the keys is in stark contrast to Edward's calm efficiency. It only feels right that I show him around my place, too. I give him the tour of my four rooms and a hallway. It feels small and unspectacular in comparison. I remind myself that I am proud of what I have done with the place. I took my time over the décor, wanting to create a space that was pretty, functional, and mine.

It feels strange having him here. He has always seemed a little otherworldly. Here in my apartment, around all my familiar things, he feels larger than life and even more set apart. My nerves really kick in when I show him my bedroom. The air is alive and that ever-present crackle between us grows. I can see in his eyes that he's imagining naughty things. I fancy he has a vivid imagination. My breathing is loud in my ears.

I retreat into the relative safety of the living room. What I am talking about? Safety? Edward is alone with me in my apartment; there is no safety. I'm not sure I want it in any case. But it's too soon. I did wear my nice underwear – just in case. But still, I think it's too early. Though I guess I've known him a while, and we've fast-forwarded on a few things for a first date.

Edward breaks the tension some as he follows me into the living room. "It's lovely, Bella. It's bursting with personality. I can see you everywhere in here."

"How do you mean?"

"It's just so _you_. It's difficult to explain." He shrugs. "It suits you. I think I could have picked it out from a hundred apartments. You have a great eye. I may be able to create a structure, but I haven't mastered the art of making a home."

The compliment pleases me. I find that it's more important than I would have thought that he likes my apartment. I think it would have been so easy for the bigshot architect to humble my little place, but he does the opposite, as if my place is the masterpiece and his the work in progress.

"It smells like you," he says.

"Smells like me?" I screech.

"Yeah." He sighs contentedly.

"What do you mean?" My voice is at least an octave higher than usual.

"You know, everyone has a personal scent."

I raise a questioning brow.

"People have a smell. Don't look at me like that, not a _bad_ smell, just an aroma that is theirs alone. I can smell it mingled with your perfume. It's floral but with a hint of something that makes my mouth water. Maybe almond?"

"That'll be my perfume, and my almond bath oil," I say somewhat appeased.

"Yeah, but it's mingled with you, too."

I show him the kitchen. It's a much more functional space than his, with ingredients out on shelves and appliances that are used often. He stops to look at my fridge. I have a host of magnets from my travels, and some photos too.

"You look like your mom, Renee," he says. We have the same pale coloring and dark hair. The same face shape too, though my chin is a little pointier than hers.

"I like this." He points at a magnet that I picked up in the UK. It's a Lewis Carroll quote. He reads it aloud, "'In the end, we only regret the chances we didn't take, the relationships we were afraid to have, and the decisions we waited too long to make.' Hm, I bet there's a lot of truth in that."

We decide on Chinese food and head to a restaurant on 85th Street, a little south of my apartment. I know from past experience that they make yummy pork buns. The smell hits me as Edward opens the restaurant door and motions for me to enter, and it makes my stomach growl in anticipation. A kindly waitress sits us at a table near the window.

We're tucking into Peking duck and pancakes when Edward asks me about Peter. It sours the food in my mouth, and I take a sip of my wine.

"Sorry, we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"No it's fine. There was an arraignment on Wednesday, he pleaded guilty." I shovel in some more food. It's delicious.

"Good, I'm glad."

"Me too. There was a plea agreement, and he pleaded guilty to a lesser charge than the original one."

"A lesser charge?"

"Fourth degree assault; it's a misdemeanor."

"That doesn't seem right. It was an unprovoked attack." That line is in between his eyebrows.

"Yeah, but the injuries weren't serious enough to sustain a higher charge and with Charlotte withdrawing her statement…"

"She withdrew her statement?" His eyebrows rise, but he pops in a bite of pancake.

"Yeah, sorry, I didn't realize I hadn't told you."

"Is she back with him?"

"I don't know the details, but I'd say so. She's too scared to leave him, and it just makes me so sad. The amount of control he has over her is frightening. She must feel so trapped. I can't imagine what her life is like. She asked me to withdraw my statement, too."

"How awful. I'm really sorry you have to deal with this."

"Thanks. I talked about it with my dad, and the next step is a sentencing hearing. But I'm not all that concerned."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't feel like the sentencing concerns me. The judge will do his job and that's it. An awful thing happened, and I'm mad at him. I'm mad at him for the night in the ER, the time off work, and how he made me feel. But now that he's admitted it in a court of law, I feel like I need to let it go. Punishing him isn't going to make me feel any better, and being angry will only hurt me."

"You are an extraordinary person, you know that?" It reminds me of Jamie calling Claire a rare woman in _Outlander_ , and butterflies dance in my stomach.

The food is delicious, and Edward and I never want for conversation. The only dicey moment is when I reach for the check. "I want to say thank you for a lovely day."

"I want to buy you dinner," he says.

"Well, maybe I want to buy _you_ dinner."

It takes some cajoling, but I don't give up, and place my card in the check book and keep my hand on it. It's the first time I've seen him unhappy about something. He has that cute little frown line in between his eyebrows again. I want to kiss it away.

Suddenly his brow clears and he says, "I'm just going to go to the restroom."

I check my phone while I wait. I send dad a quick message to let him know I'm back in the city, and reply to a message from Alice to let her know I'm having a good time with Edward.

Her reply is instant: _Well, obvs or I would have had a SAVE ME text. Have fun! Don't do anything I wouldn't do ;)_

Edward comes back. "Ready to go?"

"No, the waitress hasn't been for the check yet."

"I settled it at the bar." His face is carefully expressionless.

"Sneaky! That is so underhanded. Is that how you settle disputes?"

"Not usually." He places a quick kiss on my forehead, presumably to placate me.

"Don't think you can charm me that easily, Edward Cullen."

"We'll see about that," he says and tugs my hand. There is that crackle again. "Come on."

He walks at a brisk pace back towards my apartment. He seems to be looking for something but doesn't say what.

"What are you looking for?" I ask.

"Somewhere where I can charm you," he says with a grin. He pulls me to the left, and we head into the park. He finds a secluded spot and walks me back into a tree. He places our entwined hands at the small of my back and his other hand on the tree, so that when he presses me back into it, his hand is behind my head. I feel utterly surrounded by him and under his control. It feels like my heart is trying to break free from my chest.

"Are you charmed yet?" he asks.

"No." My breathlessness probably undermines me.

He takes his sweet time. It's like he's taking in every detail, as am I. I take in the feel of him all around me; the warmth of his breath on my face, and the firmness of his chest against mine. My lips open in invitation, and I notice he's watching them. He is watching me wanting him. He leans in and kisses my forehead, my cheek, and the tip of my eyebrow.

"And now?" he asks.

"Um, a little bit more?"

His lips finally meet mine. I expect him to be gentle, to continue tormenting me slowly, but he is anything but. I can feel his hunger for me. The kiss is all-consuming, and I can barely get enough air. The crackle between us grows, and it feels like there is electricity in the air around us. I raise my free hand to his face and scratch his designer stubble, before reaching into his glorious hair. He moans when I tug it a little.

"I've waited a long time to do that," he says as he ends the kiss, and rests his forehead on mine. He is almost as breathless as I am. "Are you charmed yet?"

I nod, not quite ready to speak. He kisses my neck, nibbling just behind my ear, and a shiver runs through me. My nipples are hard, and the friction against his chest is making me squirm.

"Tell me what you're thinking."

"I was thinking that I don't feel like I'm pretending with you."

He kisses me again. The passion is still there, but the hunger somewhat sated. I can feel him pulling away from the moment, away from me, and the moment is over.

"Let me walk you home," he says. He releases me from the tree and I feel a little unsteady. He keeps hold of my hand. The heat of his hand in mine is scorching, and I can feel its presence long after he has gone.

 **Author's Note**

 **I hope you enjoyed their first real date! I would love to know what you thought of it.**

 **Huge thanks to Songster, my beta, for her never-ending patience with my comma usage. I made some updates afterwards, so any mistakes are mine.**

 **Thank you to Bannerday for sharing this story on Facebook.**

 **Rhian xx**


	13. Chapter 13

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **I'm posting a day early because I'm working late tomorrow.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 13**

Considering the amount of walking that I did yesterday, I give myself a break from running on Sunday, and hang out with Alice and Jasper.

"So tell me more about this Edward," Alice says, as she kneels on the floor by her coffee table.

"I like him. He's good company, and he took me to the most beautiful place yesterday. There was this small meadow of wildflowers in the middle of the Olympic National Park. It was so serene and it felt like we were the first people to see it. We probably were the first to see the flowers open."

"That sounds very romantic." She has a dreamy look on her face for a moment, and then sly-eyes Jasper.

"It was. It was lovely without being," I search for the word a moment, "smushy. I'm not sure that's a word, but you know what I mean. It was definitely the best date that I've been on."

"What does he do?" Jasper asks. He's sat on a loveseat across from the sofa where I sit. He leans forward to place his coffee cup on the table.

"He's an architect. A really good one from what I gather." I take my cardigan off. Alice always has the heating on high. "Seth is studying him at school."

"God, he must be good then." His eyebrows pop up so that they're hidden behind the sandy hair that often falls into his face.

"He designed this wonderful building in L.A. It's so pretty."

"Your eyes light up when you talk about him."

"Don't analyze me, Dr. Whitlock," I say with mock offense.

"Just a friendly observation – not a clinical one." He winks at me.

"When are you seeing him again?" Alice asks with enthusiasm. "When do I get to meet him?"

"Slow down, it's been one date! I might see him sometime during the week, but I'm going to see him Saturday for certain. He wants to surprise me again."

"You hate surprises!" Alice leans in with a penetrating gaze, and her brows draw together. I think she might be trying to read something in my face.

"It worked out pretty nicely yesterday. I'm rolling with it."

"Rolling with it…" Her eyes narrow.

"Yeah, you know, stepping out of my comfort zone and all that."

"Are you talking to anyone else on Match?" This is starting to feel like an interrogation. Alice is like a dog with a bone when she thinks she's onto something.

"Um, I've turned off my Match notifications. They were getting on my nerves." I shrug.

She smirks like she has ferreted out the secret she was searching for, but doesn't say anything.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing. I'm just happy for you." She adjusts her position on the floor. I have no idea why she chooses to sit there rather than on the comfy sofa. "We have some news, too. We're looking for a new place."

"Cool, how come?"

"Well, this place only has two bedrooms and no garden. We want to get a house."

"Nice!"

"Well it's not just about the house. We're trying for a baby." Her face glows with happiness, and the look she shares with Jasper is so intimate that I almost feel like an intruder.

"Oh my God! That's wonderful." I move forward to give her an awkward hug.

"We'd like to be a bit further out of the city to start a family. You know – have outdoor space," Jasper explains.

"I'm so happy for you both. How exciting. Where are you going to look?"

"Up your way, maybe further north," Alice answers, shifting her position again in her excitement. "How cool would it be if we were neighbors? Plus, I love Carkeek Park. I'm glad that you took me there. I can imagine spending time there on the weekend."

"There are some lovely houses in Broadview. I was there yesterday. That's where Edward lives. I didn't realize there were so many nice houses with gardens up that way. Can I help you look?"

"Of course! It's obligatory."

Later, when we're alone in the kitchen, she whispers, "What do you think, really?"

"I'm happy for you. Of course I am. It is quick, but if you're sure about it – why wait?"

"That's what we thought." She seems relieved that I'm on board.

"You moved in with him quickly. Why change the habit now?" I nudge her with my elbow, and continue to dry the dish that I'm holding.

"But I was right, wasn't I?" She sounds so different to her usual confident self. I sometimes forget that she has worries and doubts.

"You're almost _always_ right, Alice. You know it. I know it. It's like you have some preternatural sense. Just don't expect me to say it ever again."

She laughs, but then more seriously says, "Do you think I'm ready to be a mom?"

"It's what you think that matters. Do you feel ready?" I pause in my drying to give her my full attention.

"I can't wait. We're doing it like bunnies," she adds with a wide grin that reminds me of those tooth whitening ads.

"Too. Much. Information!" But I can't help but laugh.

"I can't help it. There's something _more_ to it when you know it has that kind of potential…"

"I will keep everything crossed for you. And when I'm old and have arthritis, I'll expect you to look after me."

"Deal!"

I get a text from Edward on Wednesday afternoon: _I'm downtown for a meeting, want to get some dinner? x_

I type out a reply: _That would be lovely. How about seafood? Do you like Elliott's Oyster House on the waterfront?_

 _Love it! Meet you there at 6? x_

I reply: _Perfect x_

Elliott's is not exactly the perfect venue for a date, but they have wonderful fresh seafood and I have a hankering for oysters, or maybe lobster. Edward is waiting for me outside. He kisses me briefly in greeting. "I love that I can kiss you hello now," he says.

We're seated near the window, and the view over the water is beautiful. We can see the boats on the marina and the Seattle Great Wheel in the distance. I have trouble deciding what to have and Edward suggests we order a few things to share. I feel like indulging, and Edward is a bad influence. We end up ordering Oysters Rockefeller, crab cakes with a chili sauce, and the signature steamed crab. It is so decadent, and I am in food heaven.

"This is wonderful," I say as I tuck into the steamed crab and watch the sun set across the water. I'm talking about the food, the view, and the company.

"It sure is. I can see the purple of the sunset reflect in your eyes."

"It's very beautiful," I say, taking a sip of my wine.

"It sure is," he says, but he's looking at me. "I like your hair. It looks particularly pretty today."

"Thanks." I have long brown hair that is unremarkable in itself, but it styles well. Sometimes I wear it straight and sometimes I leave it with my natural wave, but today I have used a curling iron, and it has a loose curl.

"How was your meeting?"

"Good, just touching base on a project. It was productive." He takes a sip of his beer. "I'm hoping to help with plans for the children's hospital."

"That sounds interesting. What are you doing?"

"They're expanding, adding a new wing. They have some special requirements that I'm hoping I can help with. I want to give back, and I think it's a good way to do it – use the skills I have, and offer my time."

"You're doing it for free?"

"Yeah." I am sure he blushes a little. It's difficult to see under his natural tan, but I'm sure his cheeks are pinker than usual.

"That is really something, Edward. You should be proud."

"Thanks. I am. How was your day?" He takes a bite of a crab cake, and I can see the enjoyment on his face. There's something sensual about the enjoyment of food. It makes me think about other basic needs.

"It was really good, actually, though it pales a bit in comparison to yours. I've been working with a local online distributor for a while, trying to get them to sign with us for their recruitment exclusively and it looks like it might happen. I don't want to celebrate prematurely, but a meeting I had today was really positive."

"That's great. What will it mean for your company?"

"Well, it will mean more work from them on a regular basis, so more revenue and more stable income that we can forecast in our financial projections. The CEO has asked me to lead the project, and I'll be looking to track the financial growth so I can measure the benefits. They work with a lot of different subsidiaries and partners, so I'll be looking to maximize on their contacts for further exposure to promote the firm."

"You sound incredibly savvy."

"Business degree," I say and tap my forehead with a smile. "Sorry, did I go all shop then?"

"A little, but I like it – go on."

"I'm trying to talk her into diversifying and offering more than just recruitment. They're hemorrhaging staff all over because they don't have the management structure they need in place, and they haven't got any staff engagement plans in place. I think we could help with that."

"Are you good at that?"

"I like to think so. I manage a team myself at the office and when I see Johnson struggling with elements, I just want to help." I pick up an oyster and transfer it to my plate. It smells delicious.

"Tell me more about your time at college. You went to UW here, didn't you?"

"Yeah, well technically the Foster School of Business; it operates out of the U-dub campus." I spear the oyster with my fork, and my God – it's delicious. "Have you tried the oyster yet?"

He grins impishly. "Not yet."

I pick one up and put it on his plate. "They're so good!"

"Did you enjoy the course?" he asks before tucking in.

"Yeah, it's a good course and they have a policy of recruiting lecturers who have hands-on experience. I really think that made the difference. I found it very engaging."

"You're right about the oyster – wow." He takes another bite and swallows. I like to watch him eat. "How do you find Seattle in comparison to Forks?"

"The first year was a real adjustment; living in the city is totally different, and moving away from home was hard for me. We're a close family, and I was a bit homesick. It didn't last long though, and I made some friends. Before I knew it, Seattle _was_ home. It snuck up on me a bit."

"So you decided to stay."

I nod. "Yes, it was a no-brainer. I felt settled and the work opportunities are better in the city. I can't imagine living in Forks now, though I love to visit. I wish I could get out there more."

"What led you to recruitment?" He wipes his mouth with a napkin and I notice his large hands. There's something incredibly sexy about them. I think I might have a problem. I clear my throat and take a sip of water.

"I researched all sorts of firms, but recruitment was something I believed I could do well. I worked in a recruitment office part-time while I studied, and felt like I had a head start in that industry." He nods along. "I liked the firm's size and portfolio. I felt like they were on the cusp of something when I joined and they were; it's quadrupled in size."

"Wow. What's it called?"

"Puget Recruitment. It's still what I would call a small to medium-sized firm, but I find the growth exciting. Especially when I can see how I've contributed, and see the difference that the clients I've landed have made to the firm overall. I'm working towards a promotion, and if I can bring in another couple of clients through this project, Victoria said she might be able to create a head of industry role for me."

"Wow, again. Is Victoria your boss?"

"She's my boss's boss, the CEO."

"What would change for you?"

"Well it would mean less day-to-day people management and more strategic planning. I will miss the human side of things, but would love to be more strategic and plan for the future of the business on a larger scale."

Edward insists on paying and won't brook any argument. It's something I'll have to wear down if we're going to keep seeing each other. I am no kept woman.

"It's just money," he says.

"Only people with lots of money say that."

He shrugs in acceptance, and stands to leave. "I want to spend some of it on this amazing dinner. It's worth every cent for the look that's been on your face all night."

"What look?" I can feel the frown on my face.

"You have this peaceful look of contentment on your face. Well, you did a minute ago." He chuckles.

"Well, I've had a lovely evening. But I don't want your money."

"And that is one of the many things I like about you." He leans down to kiss me on the cheek. He is slow about it and lingers, taking in my scent, I think. I smile and resist the shiver that wants to run through me. The debate is over. For now. I stand and he helps me with my jacket.

Edward walks me to my car and kisses me goodbye. This is a real kiss though, no casual peck. The hunger is there again. I feel like he would devour me whole if he could. I get lost in the moment and give myself up to the feel of him.

"Saturday," he says when he pulls away.

"Saturday," I agree. "Do I get to know what we're doing?"

"No. Dress warm and comfortable. Is it okay if I pick you up at quarter past twelve?" He kisses me quickly on the lips.

"That's very specific."

"Architect," he says. "We're all about the detail."

"I'll be waiting."

 **o0o**

Edward rings my doorbell at precisely twelve-fifteen. I have no idea what we're doing today. I don't think we'll go walking again. I've dressed in jeans and a stripy jumper and have my overcoat as he said I needed to dress warm.

"Can you read minds?" he asks when I open the door for him.

"No. But if I did, I don't think I'd fess up. Why?"

"You'll see," he says cryptically. I have no idea what he means.

Edward drives north with his usual ease and as we pull up to the ferry terminal, I say, "Are we going back to the National Park?"

"Nope. We are going on the water though. I noticed how much you liked the ferry last week. I think the sea air suits you. That's what I meant before."

"The mindreading thing? I still don't get it." I look at him quizzically.

"You look very nautical," he teases. "I thought perhaps you'd learned how to get into my mind."

"Ah, my stripy top!" I am wearing a white jumper with navy horizontal stripes. "What are we doing on the water?"

"Well, in the spring, gray whales migrate north to Alaska. They pass through the Puget Sound and the Strait of Juan de Fuca. It's the perfect time to see them."

"We're going whale watching?" He nods. I can't contain my excitement. I've never done it, but it's precisely the type of thing that makes me happy. I've visited the swamps of New Orleans to see the alligators. I've cruised the Mediterranean to see dolphins and sea turtles. But I haven't done the cruise on my doorstep. How could he possibly know to pick this date?

He parks the car and we head towards the marina. Edward picks up our tickets from the office, and we hang around the waterfront until we board at one o'clock. The sun is shining and it's dry. It's like Edward is a good luck charm or something.

"I would have brought my camera if I'd known," I say. "I do have my phone at least."

He pats his pocket and says, "I have us covered."

"Of course."

"I think this one is ours," he says, pointing at a white boat with a blue stripe. It says _Glacier Spirit_ on the side.

"I'm excited!" I feel like I want to bounce up and down in an Alice-like fashion, but settle for a cheek-ache inducing grin.

"I can tell." He kisses my forehead. "I like seeing you like this."

We have a brief safety talk and are told some interesting info about the Puget Sound as we leave the shore behind us. The guide is called Christopher. He is fair-skinned with sandy hair and a slightly lighter goatee. He is around my age, I'd say. He tells us about how his mom and dad started up the business some thirty years ago, and that it remains a family business, with both him and his sister working for the business.

Edward and I sit side-by-side in the indoor seating area to listen to the talk. I feel his warmth to my side, and his arm is firm and comforting over my shoulder. He is wearing a chunky cable-knit sweater in cream. It has a generous collar with a button fastening at the front. It looks very warm and sexy somehow. I don't know why I find it so attractive; it's just a sweater. But Edward in that sweater is doing things to me.

Christopher tells us that the waters are busy today and that they saw whales on the morning tour. He reels off some key facts about gray whales and tells us how they travel from the waters off the Mexican coast up to Alaska in March and April, having spent the winter breeding in shallow and warmer southern waters.

"They swim a round trip of some twelve thousand miles, or twenty thousand kilometers," Christopher explains. "Like all whales, gray whales surface to breathe, so migrating groups are often spotted in the Puget Sound and the Strait of Juan de Fuca. In the early nineteen hundreds they were in danger of extinction owing to hunting. The whale bones would be used for corsets, for example. But today they are protected by international law, and their numbers have grown. In 1994, the gray whale was removed from the United States endangered species list. Great news for us whale watchers today!"

When the talk is over, Edward squeezes my shoulder and says, "Shall we go outside?"

"Yeah, let's do it."

The sun is bright and glinting from the waves as we glide through the water. I am glad that I had my sunglasses in my purse. The air is crisp but not cold, and it blows my hair as we move quickly out towards the sea.

Edward takes some shots of the shoreline and asks me to pose for a photo. "Turn a little and lean on the railing. I'll get a shot of your profile. I wish I'd brought my sketch book. I would like to sketch you like this."

Christopher's voice comes through the on-deck speakers to let us know that we're close to where we might see some whales. Just as he says it, I see a fin break the water. I point at it and Edward adjusts the lens on his camera.

"And another," I say, pointing slightly to the right of the other. This whale breaks the surface fully and exposes its underbelly to us.

"He's showing off for us," Christopher says though the speakers.

"Look at him," I say. There are white mottled patches all over his skin. "He looks so prehistoric."

There is a pod of at least five swimming along beside us. They are so majestic in the water. I take some photos on my phone and a video or two, but try to focus on the experience.

"This is amazing, Edward. Thank you."

"You're very welcome," he says and pecks another kiss on my forehead. It surprises me how comfortable I feel with this intimacy. I like how he is tactile and affectionate. I also like how other people look at us when we're together.

"What a day," I say as we head back towards Port Edmunds.

"And it's not even four yet," he says, looking at his watch. "I was wondering if you'd want to come back to mine. We could get takeaway. I have a fire pit in the garden if I can tempt you with s'mores."

"S'mores?" I ask. "I'm all yours!"

"If I'd known that s'mores were all it would take, I'd have suggested them sooner." He laughs.

The drive home is peaceful and I feel content. Edward has some more modern tunes playing, and I like them, though I don't recognize the artist. "Who is this singing?" I ask.

"Emeli Sande."

"I like her."

A man joins her in the next song. It has strings, which is rare in pop music and I like it. I see from the dash that it's called "Beneath Your Beautiful." It resonates with me as we drive towards Edward's house. I want to see beneath his beautiful façade. I think he's been open with me, but there is so much that we don't know about each other yet.

Stella is overjoyed to see us when we arrive. She is bouncing around like a puppy, which she can no longer claim to be and it makes me smile. I sit on a nearby chair and pet her for a while. "There is something special about animals, don't you think?" I say.

"I can't imagine my life without her now. Dogs are always so happy to see you. Their loyalty is admirable. I think we could learn a lot from dogs."

I think he's right. I wonder if he's thinking about Tanya. Was she not pleased to see him when he got home? I think she has left some scars.

"Can I interest you in tea?" he asks, brandishing a canister of teabags.

"Did you get tea for me?"

"I did." He nods, pleases with himself.

"Yes, please."

"Are you hungry?"

"Not especially, but I can eat if you are?"

"We'll wait."

He has one of those fancy taps that has instant boiling water and fills a cup for me. He may have noticed that I drink tea, but clearly isn't sure what he's doing. I take the mug and stir before taking the tea bag out. He puts milk and sugar in front of me.

"Are you sure you're not a boy scout?" I ask.

"Certain. Want to see the photos?"

"Yes, please."

He gets the camera and I expect him to hand it to me for me to scroll through the photos, but instead he hooks it up to his colossal TV. It's obviously a great camera as the photos even look good on the large screen. He hands me a control. "Just use the left and right buttons to navigate."

I settle into his comfy sofa with my tea and watch the screen. Stella jumps up beside me and places her chin on my knee.

"You have a friend for life right there," Edward observes. I pat her head.

Edward has a great eye and has captured some lovely photos of the shoreline. The photos of me are flattering. I am fairly confident and know that I can scrub up well, but these photos make me look… I'm not sure what the word is. They look professional. The light was great out on the boat, and Edward has taken full advantage. He's taken lots of shots when I didn't realize I was in frame so I'm looking away at the whales in the distance. They are candid shots and he's really captured the day.

"You're missing though," I say. "I should have taken some of you."

"I prefer being behind the lens."

The close ups of the whales are something else. He's captured the movement of the water as they break the surface. He's even captured one doing what looks like a backwards somersault; the whale is showing its underbelly and arching backwards into the water.

"These are beautiful. You should get some developed. One of these would look good in your study."

"I think you're right."

We chat in his lounge area for a while, about nothing and everything. He looks at his phone and frowns a couple of times, but puts it back down. We have Thai takeout. I have a red curry that is delicious and Edward has Pad Thai. He has opened a bottle of Pinot Grigio, and I sip it from a large wine glass. We're sitting at an oak dining table in the open space that is the first floor living area. There is a large bookcase filling the back wall, and it's full of CDs and old vinyls, as well as books.

"That's something I really miss," I say pointing at the shelves. "I've gone fully digital. My books are on my kindle, my music is on my phone – my whole life is virtual. But I really love a good bookcase." I wander over to have a better look. "Do you mind?" I ask.

"Not at all. Browse, I'll clear up."

"You don't have to do that."

"Browse," he repeats. I hear the clatter of dishes as he loads the dishwasher.

He has quite a few novels. I don't recognize most of them. "Do you read a lot?" I say loudly so my voice will travel to the kitchen area.

"Yeah, I like to read. I don't always have the time though." There is some more clanging.

"You work a lot?" Stella is my shadow and is close by as I look through the titles.

"Yeah, I have been lately." He is near me now, clearing the last bits from the table.

"You like biographies too?"

"I'm interested in the human condition," he says, walking back to the kitchen. "Particularly people who have had a tough start and really achieved something."

There are quite a few travel books, too. I take out the one on Italy and thumb through. "You've been to Italy?"

"A lifetime ago, but I'd like to go back someday."

I spot The Taming of the Shrew and am about to ask about it when I hear his phone vibrating. "Don't feel you can't take that," I say.

"No, it's fine. S'mores?"

"Yes, please."

Edward goes outside to light the fire and I grab my coat and follow him. He has four comfy recliner-type chairs facing the fire pit.

"I haven't had s'mores since I was a teenager," I say. "There was an incident."

"Do tell."

"We don't talk about it. It's a rule," I say with pretend gravity. "We used to toast marshmallows on fires at La Push beach when I was in high school."

I take a seat as Edward heads back into the kitchen and returns with marshmallows, Hershey's chocolate, and Graham Crackers. Stella takes the seat next to mine. "You like the fire, girl?" I ask her.

He hands me a skewer with a marshmallow on it. "Want to do the honors?"

I take it from him and hold it above the flame. "It's wrong how excited I am," I say. "You have the great honor of creating a new s'more memory for me."

"Are you really not going to tell me?"

"No way. No how. You have a lovely garden," I say, changing the subject. There is a lawn, that is perfect for Stella, I imagine. There is a paved area where we're sitting, which has some potted plants dotted around, mostly shrubs. There are trees and bushes bordering the lawn creating some privacy.

"Yeah, it could use some color ready for the summer I think, but I haven't got around to it."

He hands me a plate so that I can assemble my s'more. "This isn't the most attractive date food is it?" I say.

"Scared it will drip down your chin? Don't worry. I'd like nothing better than to lick it up."

I feel that current rise again, and I am conscious of his every movement. I watch his long fingers as he toasts another marshmallow. I don't know how but it's erotic, watching him. Since when did eating a toasted marshmallow qualify as sexy? Since right now. Desire is hot in the air. I knew that coming back here was an unspoken agreement to stay. We didn't want to rush into it, but it feels like we've known each other much longer than we have and like knowing each other _that_ way is overdue.

He looks at me speculatively, and I think he knows where my thoughts have led. "Are you going to stay with me tonight, Bella?"

"I would like to, if you would?" I look him straight in the eye and he stares back at me.

"I'd like that very much." He takes my hand and plants a chaste kiss on it. But it holds promise and I know from his eyes that his thoughts are anything but. I can see the predator in him.

"Come sit with me," he says with a come here gesture.

"On you?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Right here," he says patting his thigh.

Here we go, I think. I want this, but there is a flutter of panic in my stomach now that the moment is nearing. I sit on his lap and feel small, wrapped up in him.

"I am looking forward to getting to know every part of you," he whispers in my ear. "I have imagined what you look like naked for longer than I care to admit."

He kisses my neck, working his way up to my ear. He knows exactly which spot makes me writhe already and goes in for the kill. I am breathless and he's barely touched me. His words have caused a heat to rise inside of me. My nipples ache. I'd be embarrassed if I wasn't so hot and bothered.

"Now, I'm going to find out. What excites you, Bella?"

"I think you know some of that already."

"I've thought about kissing up your thigh and holding you open until you beg me to stop."

A shiver runs through me. "You think I'll want you to stop?"

He whispers in my ear, "I want to hear you moan for me."

A whimper escapes me in answer. He lifts and turns me quickly so that I'm straddling him. He kisses me languorously this time, like he has all the time in the world. I am more frantic and deepen the kiss. I take his top lip between my teeth and bite gently. He groans in response and tilts his hips upward and into me. I can feel him hard beneath me and deliberately move my hips in a slow circular motion.

"I think you like that," I say.

"Hmm, definitely." His head drops back and the look on his face makes me feel powerful.

He sits up straight and our eyes are level. As always there are hidden depths in those green eyes of his, but the primary emotion I see is desire. He stands quickly with me in his arms. I yelp in surprise. "I think we better take this inside," he says and walks into the house. "Stella, stay," he commands and heads towards the stairs. A loud ring pierces the air. "Sorry," he says. "It's the landline." He places me down and pecks my cheek. "Go up. I'll join you in a minute. I'll unplug the damn thing."

I head up to the third floor and take my coat off. I contemplate getting naked and waiting for him on his bed, but that might be a bit much. Anyway, I want him to undress me. I try to calm my nerves, but my heart is thumping in my chest. I decide to use the bathroom and take some time to calm myself. Edward still isn't there when I return to the bedroom. Has something bad happened? I thought he'd just get rid of the caller. I wait another minute or so before I go back downstairs.

Edward is sat on the end of the couch with the phone against his ear. His face is ashen, his shoulders slumped. His eyes meet mine as I walk down the stairs. I am not sure what his eyes say. There is something devastating in them. He hasn't said anything since I've been in hearing range, but I'm not sure that he is really hearing what the caller says.

His voice is hoarse when it breaks the silence. "I'll have to call you back." There is a pause. "I said I will have to call you back." He says it in a way that will brook no argument and ends the call.

He turns to me and his lips start to form shapes, but no words come out.

"Is something wrong?" I ask.

He nods.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No," he says shaking his head again. He walks towards me but doesn't come close. I close the distance between us.

"Should I go? Or can I get you a drink?"

"I don't want you to go," he says fervently. "But I think it might be for the best."

"Of course. Are you sure you're okay to be alone? We don't have to carry on upstairs. We could just talk or watch a movie?"

The sun is setting and the amber glow catches his hair as he moves towards me. "You're too good to me, Bella."

I take that as a no. "I'll get my coat."

He is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. "I really don't want you to go," he says. He wraps his arms around me and kisses me. There is desperation in the kiss. I feel his urgency as he grasps my hair and pushes me back onto the stairs. "I want you so badly," he says. "But I can't have you." He pulls away and places a lingering kiss to my temple before standing. I feel like he's telling me goodbye.

I feel awkward, laying there wanton on the stairs. The pang of rejection aches inside me. I stand with all the dignity I can muster and leave.

As I walk out onto the street and head south towards home, I can see him watching me from the window. He is as still as a statue, but his heaving chest betrays him. He looks like a drowning man inhaling underwater and accepting his fate. I feel his eyes on me as I go. I feel like something momentous has happened, but I don't know what it is.

 **Author's Note**

 **I hope that you're still enjoying the story. Thank you for reading. I would love to know your thoughts.**

 **Thank you to my beta, Songster, as always.**

 **I am Rhian0000 on Twitter if you want to chat. I'm always happy to make new friends.**

 **Rhian xx**


	14. Chapter 14

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **I didn't want to post tonight without saying how saddened I am about the events in Manchester last night; I haven't the words to express it. It's a city I know, and it's ever so close to home. But what I can say is how awed I am with the response. The news is full of stories of human kindness – taxi drivers working all night to get people home without charge, random strangers giving lifts, hotels taking in unaccompanied children to keep them safe, nurses turning up to work on their day off, and homeless people rushing to the scene to help. I don't think I've ever been so proud to be British, and a northerner at that.**

 **Back to Twilight, and the knowledge that kindness is always more profound, and there's so much of it in this fandom.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 14**

I haven't heard from Edward at all. I know that something bad has happened, but I had expected to hear from him. By Wednesday, I decide to send him a text. My ego is a bit sore, but I want to give him the benefit of the doubt.

I type: _Hi Edward, just wanted to text to let you know that I'm here if you want to talk. Or if you want some distraction, I make a mean chili con carne. Bella x_

He doesn't reply. I get the proverbial message. But this doesn't fit with the person that I've come to know. I haven't known him long, but I thought that I understood him. Perhaps I read him wrong. He just seemed so sincere in his interest in me, that I'd started to believe in it without even realizing. Perhaps I got swept up in the romance of it all and thought there was more between us than there was. I feel a little foolish.

The call obviously shook him, and that was nothing to do with me. I am worried for him. The look on his face as I left has stayed with me. He helped me when I was sad, and I would like to do the same. I suppose he does have his family in Seattle, so he's not alone. I hope nothing bad has happened to one of them. But I don't see why he'd shut me out like he has if that was the case.

I've thought through many scenarios, and ruled many out. So not family, and I don't think it's a work thing either, because I don't think that would cause that look on his face. That leaves one likely option – Tanya. It's the only real scenario where I think he would push me away. But I can't picture him having second thoughts about their relationship. I saw no love, only regret when he talked about her. But perhaps if she's in trouble, he would be drawn to help. I can see why he might want to keep me separate from that. I would have no issue with him helping her out. He's a good person, I think. Tanya was jealous and possessive though, maybe he thinks that I would react badly to him seeing her.

There has been no sign of him at the park. I admit that I've gone there more often this week, in the hopes of seeing him. I haven't even seen Stella with Rose. I wonder if he's in Seattle at all. Perhaps he's in L.A. with Tanya. I don't like how that thought makes me feel.

On Thursday, I am heading north to go to see a house in Broadview with Alice. It's too close to Edward's for comfort and I feel like I am sneaking around, hoping not to see him. I look to the ground as I walk, thinking and hiding. But deep down, I think that I really do want to see him.

In my distracted state, I bump into someone on the street. "Sorry," I say automatically. I've nearly passed him by the time I realize that it's Edward. Our eyes meet and despite it all, I feel that thrum in the air. I see emotion play on his face; relief that rapidly fades to apprehension, or even fear? Whatever it was, it is quickly wiped away and his face becomes a mask of impassivity.

"Hi," I say, feeling a little awkward.

"Hello, Bella." He is all polite remoteness. It is a disconcerting contrast to how he was with me before. I let the silence hang there and sure enough, he fills it, "I've been meaning to reply to your text…"

"If you'd meant to, you would have by now," I challenge.

"I'm sorry about not being in touch." He frowns. "I know I'm being rude, but I think it's for the best."

I think perhaps I was wrong. I saw an affection that wasn't there. It was only a few dates after all. I am surprised I am giving it as much thought and weight as I am. It annoys me.

"For the best? We're both adults, Edward. You could just say you don't want to talk." The frown line in between his eyebrows grows deeper and another line appears. "Or you could just tell me that you don't want to see me anymore, if that's what's going on here." My tone is sharper than I intend it to be.

"It's not that, I…" he falters.

"What?" I ask, my irritation showing full blast.

"I don't know what to say." He shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts.

I move to pass him. He reaches out to stop me, but draws his hand away before he touches me. He's blocking my path, though.

"This isn't what you think," he says. "I just need to sort things out in my head before we can talk properly."

"Don't sweat it. You don't owe me anything."

There is a flash of pain in his eyes. "But I do," he says emphatically. "I just need a little more time. Will you meet me sometime? Can I call you?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Please, don't be like that. Let me call you."

"Is this something to do with Tanya?" His eyes widen and I know that I've hit the mark, but he says nothing. "Whatever." I move past him and I will not look back.

I walk quickly. My heart rate has spiked, more because of Edward than my brisk pace, I think. I am red-faced by the time I reach the house. Alice and the estate agent, Ben, are waiting for me. Other than quick hellos, I am spared the need to make conversation as Ben goes into sales mode. I try with little success to gather my thoughts.

"I love this view," Alice says. "I'll have to come back with Jasper. I think it's a real contender." Jasper got caught up at work and couldn't make it in time for the showing.

"It is a great view," I agree. We are in the master bedroom on the third floor, and the view reminds me of Edward's bedroom. I feel pathetic.

"Bella, are you listening?"

"Sorry, did you say something?"

"Yeah, I was talking about the bathroom." Her features soften. "Are you okay? You seem a million miles away."

"I'm alright, just tired. Sorry."

"How are things with Edward?" She always sees too much, just like he does.

"I think it's over."

"What?" Her expression would be comical in another circumstance, I think. "After going to such lengths to woo you? That doesn't seem right."

I shrug. "I don't know. I don't really want to talk about it." She gives me a quick squeeze as she leaves the bedroom. I linger a while, lost in my thoughts.

I hadn't expected that Edward would call, but sure enough he does on Sunday. I am piqued by his silence until now, so I let it go to voicemail. I feel childish, but I don't want to be available to him. I only last some fifteen minutes before I listen to the voicemail.

"Bella, hi, it's Edward. I would really like to talk, if you'll see me. Please call me."

I have a feeling of foreboding, and I think that I don't really want to talk with him. I don't foresee anything good coming from it. But I am a curious sort, and I feel like I want to know what has happened. I don't think that Edward will slip from my mind as easily as Mike and Tyler did.

I text him a couple of hours later, rather than return the call: _Hi Edward, I have some time after work tomorrow if that would work._

He replies quickly: _That would be great. Can we meet at the park?_

 _6:30?_

 _I'll be on the bridge. Thank you for meeting me._

I am full of nerves as I walk to the park. I am still in my work clothes, but have changed to flat shoes. I don't know what to expect. I have been thinking about all the things that had me convinced that this was something special. Edward told me that he'd been trying to get my attention for months; he had drawings of me in his sketch book, and he read me so well. He really seemed to want to know me. I didn't think it was just a passing interest. He even seemed to like me when I had a black eye and cried on him.

Was it just the chase for him? Did he get a thrill from coming on strong and getting me to open up, and then when I'm there willing and ready on his stairs, he is done? But that doesn't track with what I think I know of him. How does that phone call fit in? That was certainly what changed things, and that is nothing to do with me. I know I'm overthinking things, and I am not prepared for this conversation because I have no idea what I want to say. I don't know how to articulate my feelings, and they are too close to the surface for my liking.

He is on the bridge waiting for me alone. He hasn't brought Stella. I wish that he had. I would like to see her again.

"Bella, thank you for coming," he says. He sounds incredibly formal. I nod in response. "Walk with me?"

I nod again. I'm not confident in my voice. We double back and follow the track of my usual run. The evenings are drawing out so it's still light. But the sky is gray and I think it might rain. I can feel it in the air.

"How have you been?" he asks.

"That's not really why we're here is it?" My voice is small, but I'm glad that it doesn't shake as I feared.

"No, but I would like to know all the same."

I can't bear the kindness in his eyes. "I'm okay."

"I guess I deserve this," he says.

"Deserve what?"

"Your reserve."

"You can't expect me to be open when you've closed me out." I cross my arms.

"I don't. I meant it when I said that I deserve it." There is a sadness that radiates through him. If he's sad, why is he doing this?

We walk a while in silence. It's excruciating; being close to him and so far away at the same time. The silence stretches out, but I don't want to be the one to break it. I have the feeling that this could be the last time I will see him. He gestures to a bench. "Shall we sit?"

We sit and I choose to leave some space between us, but I turn my body towards him so that I can see his face. But I find it hard to look at him and find myself looking into the distance instead. There are squirrels digging in the grass, unfazed by the people passing by.

"I don't know where to start," he says. "Shall I just be blunt?"

"Please do." The suspense is killing me.

"Tanya is pregnant with my child."

I turn to him quickly. My eyebrows feel like they've raised so high that they're in my hairline. "I thought you had been over for a while?"

"We have. We split up last spring, but a while back we had sex."

I watch a squirrel dart up a tree as I let the thought sink in. It shocks me just how much the thought of Edward with another woman upsets me. I have no right. They were together for years after all. Edward and I didn't even make it to foreplay. My voice is surprisingly cold as I ask, "A while?"

"It was before us. I promise you. It was around Christmas time. I didn't mean for it to happen. I don't know why it happened at all. It was horrible, I–"

"I really don't want to hear about it," I interrupt.

"Of course not." He looks chastened and adjusts his position on the bench. He turns more towards me, and leans in. "I didn't mean to lead you on."

"Lead me on?" My voice is higher and harsher than I intended it to be. It just burst out of me with little thought. "Don't flatter yourself. It was only a few dates." I embrace the anger that has sparked within me. Anger is an emotion that will carry me through this.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." He repositions himself so that he is facing me and leans in so that our eyes are level. "Bella, I want you to know that it wasn't just a few dates for me. I have wanted you for a long time, and the more time I spent with you, the more I wanted you. This past month, getting to know you, sharing confidences, it's meant a lot to me."

I feel tears prick at my eyes. I search for the anger that will ground me.

"That day we went whale watching was like a dream come true—seeing you smile, the sun shining down on you, your hair whipping all which ways—I don't think I've seen anything so beautiful in my life."

He grasps my hand, but I take it back. I notice absently that my hands are shaking. They're cold and don't feel like they're mine.

"I want you so badly. Sitting here all platonic and distant is killing me. But I _have_ to do the right thing here."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "Of course you do."

The light is failing and the growth of the shadows around us is ominous. I can feel the tension of a storm brewing in the air.

"I know what it's like not to be wanted by your parents. I can't do that to my own child."

"I know." The knowledge that he's doing the right thing is a heavy weight on my shoulders. My body caves in on itself.

"Bella, please talk to me."

"And say what?" I look up at him.

"Tell me what you're thinking." He searches my face, no doubt reading all too much.

"I have no idea. This is…" I shrug in exasperation.

"It's a shock, I know. I'm sorry." He shifts closer again. "I've missed you."

"Please don't." I pull away. "Is this the something stupid you did?"

He nods. His mouth tightens, and I can see the shame on his face.

"So you've known since that weekend you were in L.A.?" The fire inside of me builds.

"No! It was a shock for me, too. You must have seen that, when she called on Saturday."

Yes, he's right. That wasn't an act. "So what happened when you were in L.A. that you didn't want to tell me?"

"We had a fight. She thought that I'd go back, that I was just stalling, sowing some oats or something. She's delusional."

I raise an eyebrow. "But she's not now she's pregnant, is she?"

His eyes tighten, and I feel no urge to rub away the line between his eyebrows like I used to.

"Well, I didn't know you were king of the understatement," I jibe. "That was really fucking stupid."

"I know."

Tears prick at my eyes, I won't let them fall, but my hold on my anger is weakening. He reaches out and takes my face in his hands. He leans his forehead to mine. His breathing is heavy and broken. "I don't want to let you go."

Panic surges up in me, and I have to leave. I can't have him touch me and leave me. His grasp on me is desperate, and it is almost my undoing. My emotions are much too close to the surface, and much more deep-rooted than I had realized. I can't handle this right now. I stand quickly, and step away.

"Bella, please."

I can't look at him. I can't meet his eye. I walk away from him, and I don't look back. He calls to me again, and I feel the tear of something vital inside of me. I can no longer hold back my tears, and they stream down my face. A flash of lightening lights up the sky, and large raindrops fall from above. I am soaked through by the time I get home. I don't have it in me to care.

 **Author's Note**

 **Please don't hate me. Love you lots!**

 **I know that a lot of readers decide whether to read a story based on review count. If you're following this story and find something about it interesting, please leave a review to help me attract more readers. I'm really enjoying sharing this story.**

 **I'm sharing an EPOV of part of this chapter with reviewers.**

 **Thank you to Songster for editing and for talking through the plot with me. I don't know what I'd do without you!**

 **Rhian xx**


	15. Chapter 15

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 15**

I feel like shit. There are no two ways about it. I barely slept last night. My mind is a busy place. I am relieved that I wasn't wrong; that I hadn't misread him. But I think this news is more devastating, because it _was_ real between us. I hadn't imagined it, and I'm going to miss out on something that could have been special. Edward is now entirely out of my reach. He is leaving, and it's because he's trying to do the right thing. I'm not entirely sure what that is, but I'm pretty sure that it won't be the right thing for me. I drag myself out of bed, and go through the ritual of getting ready for work as if I am an outsider looking on.

I bump into Shelley as I'm leaving the building. It looks like she's just let her dog, Bailey, out into the small patch of garden she has to the left side of the building. I notice that she's leaning on a walking stick and is grasping onto the door frame.

"You're home!" I say. "I thought you'd be staying with your daughter another week." She had her operation for her back the week before last, I think.

"I'm a bit more mobile than I thought I'd be, but mostly I needed the quiet."

"Noisy grandkids?"

"Bingo!" She lets go of the door frame long enough to shakes her index finger in the air. "My daughter is a great help, but she fusses."

"How are you? I take it that it went well?"

"I'm doing okay, thanks. It's painful, but everything went to plan and I have good painkillers. I'm okay getting around the apartment, but if you could take Bailey for his walk like we said, that would be a great help."

"Of course, I'll come around after work and take him to the park?"

"Thanks, Bella. I'll see you later."

I round the corner to where my car is parked. I notice that my tire doesn't look right. It looks flat. I take a closer look and see that there is a large gash in the rubber. What the hell? Then, I notice that the rear tire is also damaged. I circle the car to find that all four tires are flat with large gauges in the rubber.

"For fuck's sake! Can _nothing_ go right in my life right now?" I say in a pique of temper.

I take out my cell and call work. "Hi James, my car has been vandalized so I'm not going to be in on time today."

"I really need you here, Bella. I mean, you had time off recently already."

Is he for real? "Yes, I had time off after I was assaulted on company property," I say barely restraining my temper. "I have my laptop. I can work from home this morning so nothing slips. I have a meeting with Blake this afternoon. I'll take a taxi if I have to."

"Okay. Keep me informed." At least he knows when to back off.

I take some photos on my cell. Thankfully, I have insurance coverage so it shouldn't be too much hassle. But it's hassle I really don't need. I head in to call them from the apartment. There is no use hanging around on the street. I look around to see if anything, else looks out of place. There is nothing. On my way back in, I ask Shelley if she's seen anything but she'd only just opened her door when she saw me, she said.

I call the recovery service first so they can send someone out to help. It's a laborious process. I grit my teeth and go with it. She's placed me on hold while she contacts a local garage, so I fire up the work laptop. I send an e-mail to my team to tell them what's happened and to get me on e-mail or my cell if they need me today. I also answer a few client e-mails and am relieved that there is one from Blake asking to push the meeting to tomorrow. Convenient, but I hope that he's not having second thoughts. I was hoping for good news today.

The lady finally comes back and confirms that someone will be with me in forty-five to ninety minutes. I am glad I'm not stranded at the side of a road somewhere with a wait like that. I call the police next. Their interest in random acts of vandalism is understandably different to how they've handled my assault. I give the details over the phone, they give me a case number, and that's the end of the matter.

I settle in to do some work, and it's a welcome distraction. I get absorbed in it and am startled when my cell rings to tell me that the mechanic is outside. His name is Jim, he's a nice guy. He explains that because he'll need to change all four tires that he's going to tow it to his garage nearby and do it there. He gives me his card in case I need to make contact. I give him the spare key for my car and go back inside.

I send James an e-mail to update him and say I'm not sure when I'll be in, but that my meeting has moved to tomorrow in any case. He replies saying I may as well work from home for the day, but I can tell he's not happy. He works from home often. Only I don't think he gets that much done, whereas I do some of my best work from home where I have quiet to plan.

I may as well be comfy, I think. I change out of my work clothes and make myself a cup of tea. I give home a call as the kettle boils.

"Oh no! What a lousy start to the day," Mom says.

I have told her about the car, but I'm not ready to tell her about Edward. I just want to exist in a bubble today and get on with work.

"I know. It's such a shitty thing to do." I give my tea a quick stir and fish the teabag out. "Probably some stupid kids thinking they're clever. But on the bright side, I'm working from home for the day."

"Have you heard from the police about the sentencing?" I balance the phone against my shoulder, as I open the fridge to grab the milk carton.

"Oh, I did have a missed call from Officer Banner last night, but I haven't returned it yet. I'll give him a call now." The timing makes sense as I connect the dots now – Charlotte had booked the day off work yesterday. She probably went with him to court.

"You do that, sweetie. You don't think Peter would have anything to do with your car do you?"

"I wouldn't have thought so. It's not really his MO. He wouldn't know where I live anyway." But the thought is unsettling.

"I'll talk to your Dad about it. It might be nothing, but perhaps mention it to Banner?"

"Yeah, I will. Bye, Mom."

I give Bob a call straight away.

"Hi Bella, how are you?"

"I've had better days if I'm honest. My car got vandalized."

"Have you reported it?"

"Yeah, I called it in this morning. You don't think it could be linked to the case do you?"

"I would doubt it given the sentence, but it's best to be cautious about these things." He clears his throat. "Do you have any reason to suspect that Peter had something to do with it? What happened anyhow?"

"My tires got slashed. No reason to think it was Peter, just coincidental timing. He doesn't even know where I live."

"So the sentencing hearing went ahead yesterday and Peter was sentenced to three months, but his sentence is suspended." He coughs, and it sounds congested. I hope he's not too poorly. "Now what that means is that he will serve the sentence on probation. He will need to comply with the conditions of his probation or will have to serve his sentence in jail. This is what makes me think it's unlikely that he had anything to do with the car, because if he had, he'd be in breach of those conditions already and would be landed in the clink."

"That makes sense."

"Now don't get me wrong, people don't always comply with their conditions so it's not out of the realm of possibility. You be vigilant and if you do have any concerns about him at all, please don't hesitate to contact me direct."

"Thanks for that, Bob. I really appreciate it."

I am glad to be absorbed in my work. I will leave the thinking until later. Jim has the car back by one, but I stay home as James suggested. It was one of his better suggestions for sure. By six, I am done with work and put my running shoes on to go walk Bailey. He's such a cute little thing, and he's excited to see me.

"Thanks again," Shelley says as she waves us off. I have Bailey on his lead and poop bags in my pocket. That's definitely a down side of doggie walking.

I take my usual route but it takes much longer walking, and Bailey is curious and wants to sniff everything all the time. I don't mind. It gives me time to think. There is Peter and the vandalism to consider, but mostly, it is Edward that fills my mind.

Intellectually, I know it's pointless to mourn the loss of something I never even had. I know that I am no worse off than before and that I barely know him, really. I know that he's trying to be a good guy, and I can't hate him for that. I would think less of him, if he didn't go to L.A. But my heart isn't listening to my brain. My heart is sore, and it yearns for the feeling that Edward gave to me. He made me feel special, and interesting, and I think we had a connection that could have really meant something. Possibility is a powerful thing, and it is gone.

It's a very different scenario, but my mind plays over the Eric and Angela thing. I shut them out because they upset me. I don't see them, and I regret that now. Angie and I were best friends. I thought we told each other everything. I'm not a social butterfly; I prefer to have a small group of close friends and I had that with her, Eric and Jake at the Nordheim apartment. Eric and I had a little thing going for a while. It wasn't anything serious. It was a bad idea considering we lived together in a shared apartment, but I guess you do stupid things in college sometimes.

I had noticed that something wasn't quite right, but I hadn't given it much thought. Angie seemed quiet, and there were sometimes hushed conversations and quick moves away when I would walk into a room. In the end, I asked straight out, "What's going on?"

"Nothing," she said.

But a couple of days later, Eric told me that something had happened between them. "I'm sorry, I didn't tell you. I know that I should have." He looked abashed as he gave me the truth and an apology that Angie never did.

I was very upset at the time. Things were never the same in the apartment after that. I thought that I was jealous of their relationship, and that I was being left behind. But in truth, the real killer was that Angie had deceived me. I had thought that we were close friends, but she'd been sneaking around with Eric behind my back, and lied to me about it. It was a betrayal, and that's why I was really upset. But in hindsight, I never once thought about things from her perspective. I was never serious about Eric, but she was. He wasn't right for me in so many ways, and I never really expected a future with him. I think they're married now. It's obvious that their connection was strong, and perhaps I should have considered that. Was that deception worth burning two friendships? I'm not so sure.

The thought of not seeing Edward again is a dagger to my heart. He's gotten further under my skin than anyone ever has. He's tried harder than anyone else has to win my affection and now he's got it he is leaving. I'm so angry at the timing of it. If it had been a few weeks sooner, he never would have been anything but the Adonis with a dog in the park. Now he's infinitely more.

I don't like to think of him disappearing from my life. But there really is no other way, is there? I can't imagine how we could stay in touch. I don't like the thought of him leaving without telling him how I really feel. My feet take me to his door without much conscious thought.

I press the door bell and I hear the speaker buzz into life. "Bella," he says. "I'll just let you in."

I am taken aback that he knows it's me, but then I spot what must be a camera lens above the speaker. I hear a click, and I push the gate open. He walks out to meet me on the drive. I see his surprise, but I think he's glad to see me. "Bella."

"Hi."

He turns to head back to the house. "Come in."

"I can't." He notices Bailey at my feet.

"You got a dog?"

"No, he's my neighbor's dog. I'm just doing her a favor. I won't come in. I just wanted to say that I think you're doing the right thing going to L.A. You wouldn't be the man I think you are if you didn't go. I didn't want you to leave without telling you that." My words tumble out of me quickly.

"Bella, I…" He reaches for me.

"Don't. I just wanted to tell you that, and to wish you well. I really _do_ wish you well, Edward." I take a deep breath in a gulp and try to ignore the lump in my throat. "I think you're a remarkable person and that you deserve to be happy. I know it's not my place, but…" Stella comes bounding towards us and Bailey whines. He's not good with bigger dogs.

"Give me a minute. Please don't go," he says taking Stella by her collar, leading her back into the house and closing the door. She doesn't want to go and keeps looking back at me over her shoulder. I feel bad. I would have liked to say goodbye to her, too.

"Please come in," he pleads. The sadness in his eyes is painful to see.

"I can't." I need to say my piece and get out before I break apart.

"Look, you can say anything to me. What were you going to say?" His voice is gentle and coaxing like I am a small child, or a wild animal. Neither would be far off base.

I stare down at Bailey, now sitting at my feet, as I collect my thoughts. "I, ah, I want you to really think about what's best for you as well as what's best for the baby." I meet his eye. "I know that you weren't happy before. She doesn't make you happy and that's not a good environment for anyone." I take another step away from him and push my hair off my face. "I thought about it, why didn't she tell you she was pregnant last time you were in L.A? She's manipulating you, just like she always did. Don't forget about who you want to be."

"Thank you." His voice breaks a little. "I know how magnificently I am ruining my own happiness, but I _have_ to try." He steps closer, and I instinctively take another step back. "I hate the thought of not seeing you again."

"Me, too. But I think it would be worse to draw this out. I mean, are you going back to be with Tanya or just for the baby?"

"I haven't figured it all out yet." He rakes his hand through his hair.

"I think it's important you do that for yourself, without me complicating things."

"You're not a complication. You're important to me." He places his hand on my face, and I let him this time. The feeling of his skin touching mine is almost healing; his warmth and a feeling of intense comfort seeps into me. But there is also that thrum of electricity that has always been there when he touches me.

His look is intense and speaks of longing and unexpressed desire. I dread to think what my eyes are revealing. I reach my hand up to cup his and lean my head into his touch. I close my eyes, breaking the connection.

"Don't," he says. "Don't hide those eyes from me."

I look up at him. My chin quivers with my emotion. Part of wants to sob and wail, but my pride is a barrier to that. The other part of me wants to hurt him for the hurt that he's causing me. Telling me he wants me as he leaves me bereft is too cruel, but my conscience is a barrier to that too. And so here I am; my heart in my throat, my pain written on my face across from this man, who could have meant so much and is now going to have only a cameo role in my life. Will I even remember him in years to come? I don't know what I want the answer to that question to be.

"Let's just have this moment. You and me," he says. Neither of us says a thing for what feels like a long time. We don't move; we just look into each other's eyes. His hands are warm on my skin. The thrum between us is as electric as ever; it overwhelms my senses.

"You feel that pulse between us too, don't you?" I ask eventually. My voice is surprisingly detached.

"Yes."

"It's exactly why we can't do this, Edward." I feel him stiffen. "You might not want to think of me that way, but I am a complication. You're right to go to L.A. There is an unborn child that is more important than either of us." I step away from him. The loss of contact leaves me feeling empty. But I still feel the warmth of him on my cheek.

"Wait, can I call you?"

"Call me when you know what you're going to do. I'd like to know, if that's okay?"

"Of course, I'll tell you anything you want to know."

He buzzes me out of the gate.

I walk slowly, which is fine with Bailey as he likes to stop and sniff things all the time. By the time I arrive home the sun has set and the sky is completely black. I wonder whether it's cloud cover or a new moon. There is no sun or moon in the sky for me tonight, it's all darkness; it feels symbolic. I reach my hand to my face and savor the memory of his touch.

 **Author's Note**

 **Please don't hate me. I would love to hear your thoughts.**

 **Thank you so much to those who have reviewed this story. I am always grateful to hear your thoughts and really appreciate you helping to get my review count up. I know that's how many people decide whether a story is worth reading.**

 **Thank you to Songster, my beta, as always.**

 **Rhian xx**


	16. Chapter 16

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 16**

I thought that I would feel better having told him the truth, having said a nicer goodbye. But I don't. Well maybe marginally, but when you're on a scale of absolutely shitty versus slightly less shitty, it's neither here nor there.

I know that I have to let him go, but I don't want to. I find no comfort in the thought that he seems to feel the same. I want to tell him to pick me. I want to tell him to stay. But I can't. I don't want to get in the way of a family. The word—even just in my mind—stings.

I went through the motions at work today. I was glad of the distraction. The time to think on the drive home is unwelcome. My phone rings as I park the car. It's a withheld number, and my heartbeat hikes. I wonder if it's Edward. Can he have made up his mind so quickly? Why would his number be withheld?

"Hello," I answer.

There is silence in response.

"Hello, is there anyone there?"

The line goes dead. I grab my purse and head inside. My phone rings again as I let myself into my apartment. This time it's Alice.

"So, Jasper loves that house at Broadview, too!" she shrieks.

"Great news. Do you think you'll make an offer?"

"We already have!" I can hear her elation. "We're just waiting now to see if it's accepted."

"You'll be so near to me. It'll be great." I do mean it, but I can hear the flatness in my tone.

"Oh, Bella. You don't sound good."

"You didn't just call me did you?"

"You mean before this call? No. Are you sure you don't want to talk about Edward?"

My composure cracks, and I can't form coherent words.

"I'm coming over," she says and ends the call.

We sit on my sofa with the noise of the TV in the background and hot drinks in our hands.

"He's leaving," I say bleakly. "His ex is having his baby."

Alice's chin practically hits the floor. "I didn't see that coming."

"Neither did I. I knew something was wrong, but I hadn't thought of a baby. I don't think he even likes her. He's told me how much she manipulated him. I'm worried for him. He's trying to do the right thing, but he's not going to be happy. I can't even hate him."

"I can hate him for you," she says with conviction. "Got his ex pregnant? What a cunt!"

"Alice!" She shocks me out of my misery mid nose blow.

"Sometimes, other words just don't cut it. How far along is she anyway?"

"Around Christmas, he said." I shake my head, warding off any thoughts of him and _her_. I finish blowing my nose. I need a new Kleenex.

"Something feels off. I don't like it."

"Of course you don't, he's dumping me for his ex. It's very off!" I snort a laugh through my tears.

"Does he really think that going back to her is the solution? I thought he was a smart man?"

I snort, then blow my nose some more.

"What do you know about her?"

"I know that I don't like her. She was possessive and controlling. I'm not sure how much love there was between them. She's still living in their house in L.A."

"Getting pregnant would be a good way to get him back." I can see her brain calculating.

"I guess. But you can't exactly plan these things."

She gives me a 'don't be stupid' glare. "Bella, sometimes you are too nice for your own good. Just because you wouldn't think of manipulating someone, or a situation, doesn't mean that she wouldn't. In fact, she sounds just the type."

Alice certainly has a point. Tanya has a history of manipulating Edward. Worryingly, I guess that also means that he has a history of letting her.

"How long have they been split up?" she asks.

"Almost a year."

"That's a long time apart to be having break-up sex." Her eyes narrow.

"I didn't get the impression that it was a regular thing. He started to tell me that he didn't know why he'd done it, but I cut him off. I didn't want to hear it."

"Do you think she'll have the baby?"

"I hadn't even thought about that. I just heard she was pregnant, and he was leaving so saw them having a baby." I am ashamed that there is a flutter of hope in my chest at the thought of Tanya not going through with it. What an awful thing to think.

"Well, like I said, I will hate him for you. What an utter fuck-up. Boning his ex that he doesn't even like, and then wooing you like there is no tomorrow… It's weird though, from what you'd told me, I had a really good feeling about him." She screws up her face in consternation. "I'm going to open some wine."

Alice stays a while and we talk some more. It does help to confide in her. But I have more questions than answers and the not knowing is harder than I thought. Will she have the baby? If she does will Edward just be the father, or will they get back together? Will they get married? Does it even make any difference if he's in L.A. and I'm in Seattle? I thought if I got away from it, that it wouldn't consume me. I was wrong. My curious mind won't let it drop, and I am glad that I told Edward he can call me when he knows what he's going to do. At least then I will know, even if it's not what I want to hear. I find myself constantly checking my phone.

I have a busy day at work the following day. I rant a little about my tires when I arrive. My team are outraged on my behalf, and it's good to get it off my chest. Damn vandals. I have the meeting with Blake rescheduled for this afternoon. He is my contact at Johnson. His grandfather opened his first warehouse in the late forties. He managed to capitalize on the airplane industry boom and supported import and export of parts and tools used by the engineers. Now the company has diversified and deals in all sorts of products from hardware to car parts. They're dealing with businesses at the minute, but they are looking to break into the consumer market shortly. I really admire what they've been able to achieve and will be glad to work with them in recruiting their staff.

I am hoping that Blake will confirm exclusivity for Puget Recruitment today, but the reschedule has me a little nervous. I really want this to come off. If it does it, means I have the go ahead from Victoria to pursue work with their partners. I think that being busy over the next few months will be good for me.

"Bella," Blake greets me with a smile and a brief hug. It's how we usually greet each other, but I choose to take his familiarity and ease as a good sign. I have come to the Johnson Storehouse Head Office to meet with him.

"Hi Blake, how are you?"

"Good, thanks. Sorry for yesterday, it was manic here. We had an issue with a large order. Please sit." He gestures to a chair in his office.

"No worries at all. I was glad of it. I had car issues yesterday morning, so I was worried about getting here."

"Oh no, is all well now?" He sounds truly concerned, and this is why I like him.

"Yeah, all sorted, thank you."

"I'm really pleased to tell you that we're all looking forward to working with you exclusively for our recruitment needs."

My grin is so large it hurts my cheeks. "Thank you." I try to keep my cool, but inside I am dancing.

"It's not going to be easy. I'll look to share some of our expansion plans in more detail once we're completed the contracts. It's a considerable ramp up of staff with a few back up plans depending on how accurate our forecast is. But I think you're up to it, Bella." He takes off his suit jacket and drapes it on the back of his chair. "You should be really proud. Your work on this has been impressive. I have a copy of the proposed contract here for you to review with Victoria and the legal team. I hope Puget Recruitment know what they have."

"Thanks, Blake," I say. "It's nice of you to say so. I'm really looking forward to working with you and your team more. The more we get to understand, the better we can fill the positions, particularly the senior management positions you have in mind."

"Yes, I was hoping that you'd spend some time with Lauren and draw up a better job description than we currently have for the operation manager positions."

"Of course. I started to look at what you sent over, but some brief shadowing will help with that." I open my notepad to write a reminder to myself. "Then, I can introduce the work culture element that we talked about and have some standard paragraphs about Johnson's as an employer and business for all positions."

Success! It's only the first hurdle, but it's a win whether my project works or not. Johnson's are a powerhouse with a large workforce and a high turnover. Of course, the plan is to reduce turnover over time by recruiting against the right profile. We're going to support with exit interviews to understand why people leave and make recommendations as well as support with employee engagement activities to promote Johnson's as a great place to work.

This is a good distraction. I am almost back at the office before my mind turns to Edward. I find that I want to tell him my news though. I go to see James to update him when I get back to the office. Conveniently, Victoria is already in his office.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," I say. "I can come back."

"Not at all," Victoria says, and gestures for me to come in. "You look happy, have you got news about Johnson?"

"Yep. They have confirmed. I have a contract here for you to review." I hand it over to Victoria.

"Excellent," she says.

"Well done, Bella," James says. "I guess I won't be your boss for much longer."

He probably has no idea how much that appeals. "I'm not getting ahead of myself. I know this is only the beginning." We agree to schedule some time to catch up after the lawyers have reviewed the contract.

The working week goes quickly. I have focus and people around me who need me to be on point. My time outside of work is another matter entirely. I find that I am checking my phone constantly to see if Edward has called. I hate that I am doing it, but despite my best efforts, I continue to do so. Every time it lights up my heart flutters. Is it him? It's never him and I'm always disappointed. Of course he's not going to call so soon. He has a big decision to make. He's probably in L.A. talking things through with _her_.

I keep my life going; I have dinner with Seth and go to the movies with Alice like I had planned. I even go out with my colleagues to celebrate the Johnson contract. But my heart isn't in it. I couldn't tell you what the movie was about, and I often find myself losing the thread of conversation. It is like I am in stasis. I am waiting to hear my fate. In one of my more melodramatic moments I wonder if this is what a prisoner on death row feels like; a slow inevitable passage of time until the death sentence is carried out. But all the while, there is an unrelenting tendril of hope for a stay of execution. I need to drop the drama.

It is exactly two weeks after our conversation in the park that he calls me. I have been so accustomed to it not being him when my cell rings that the fact that it _is_ him, takes me by surprise. I stare at my screen a moment, and try to calm my heartrate before I answer.

"Hello," I say.

"Hi Bella, how are you?"

I can tell instantly from his voice, that it's bad news for me. I knew that it would be. I want to shout, _Pick me! Don't go!_ _She can't make you happy. You ran away from the life you had with her for a reason._ I am screaming the words in my head, but nothing passes my lips. I know it's pointless, and I can't say those things.

"Bella, are you there?"

"I'm here. I'm okay," I say automatically.

"Good, I'm glad." I'm sure he knows I'm lying. "How's work?" He's stalling.

"Good," I answer. I want him to get to the point. I don't have any words anyway.

"Bella, I don't know how to say this."

"Get it over with."

"I'm going to try to make a go of things with Tanya. I won't bore you with the details, but I'm going to try. I feel I have to. I'm really sorry."

"Don't apologize."

"I don't know what else to say. I feel like I want to tell you so much, but that it will just hurt us both."

"You're right." My voice is a pained whisper.

"I know what you must be thinking of me. I'm not standing by my convictions, and I must be disappointing you. But the reality that I am going to be a father means I can't choose for myself." He clears his throat, and I hear Stella whine in the background. "Where do we go from here?"

"Nowhere. I don't think we can be just friends, do you?"

"No, I don't think I could manage that." He sounds broken. Not like an excited expectant parent. I selfishly take some solace in this.

"Then it's goodbye – for real this time." My voice is remote, and the words pass my lips without conscious thought.

"I can't bear the thought of not knowing how you are."

"Maybe when the dust has settled, things will be different." I don't know why I say this. I won't hear from him again. Do I even want to?

"You mean, maybe when we get over this, that we could be friends in the future?" The hope in his voice is nearly my undoing.

"I don't know." I swallow against the lump in my throat. I feel like it's choking me.

"I would like to think that. It gives me hope." There's that dangerous word again. "I won't say goodbye then, I'll say see you, Bella."

"See you."

"I will see you again," he says like he's trying to convince himself.

I'm not sure who ends the call, but it's a while before I realize that it has ended. This is it, I think. I am on my knees in my hallway. I am not sure how I got there. I don't have the will to move.

 **Author's Note**

 **Thank you so much for reading. I am sorry to put these two through heartbreak.**

 **Thanks so much to Songster for editing. I don't know what I would do without her.**

 **#Manchester #London**

 **Rhian xx**


	17. Chapter 17

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 17**

Time is constant and inevitable. It is entirely regular and inexorable in its passing. And yet it passes much too quickly when we're having fun – sometimes it just disappears in large chunks, and you don't know where it went. Sometimes it is a slow inescapable trudge; a treadmill with no destination. I exist in the later realm.

I make it through the week. What choice have I got? Time passes with or without my permission. I feel somewhat disjointed from my life, like I am an interloper. I feel altogether too much. I try to cocoon myself in numbness as often as I can. But I can only manage that when I'm intent on work or not thinking at all. I am not good at not thinking. My brain is a busy place, and switching off is difficult.

I eschew the park. I don't want to go there. It is no longer the sanctuary that it was. Music is no longer my friend. Most of my collection is so full of emotion; emotion that I just can't deal with. I have too much of my own.

I am exhausted, but I find no relief in sleep. There is no oblivion. Even in the rare moments of sleep, he haunts my dreams. Mostly, I dream about him leaving me and relive it again and again in different ways. But in the most painful dreams, we are in the meadow. The pain that follows is clawing and acute.

My intellect is telling me that I barely knew him, that it was only a few dates. I never even slept with him for God's sake. I don't feel entitled to the pain that I feel, and it adds to my feeling of displacement. I don't feel myself at all and so I do the thing that I always do when I am upset; I run home and seek comfort in the place that I am most loved.

The drive is dreadful. Four hours is a terribly long time to be left with my own thoughts these days. I can't help but replay, and think, and cry. I decide to stay in the car on the ferry. I don't want to go up on deck and be reminded of the day that Edward took me to that beautiful meadow in the Olympic Park.

Ten minutes in, I have done nothing but think about it. I open the door, climb out, and slam it behind me. Damn that beautiful bastard filling my brain. Damn his beautiful meadow, too. I charge up to the deck muttering curses. This'll do. Anger always did suit me better.

The cool air fills my lungs, and the scent of the salt water of the Puget Sound fills my nose. It is a comforting feeling. I always did like the ferry.

It is twilight. The sun has dipped beneath the horizon, but I see its glow lighting the sky in the distance. The sky is a stunning mix of purples and blue. The amber dots of lights from the city catch my eye, as does their reflection on the water.

The wind is high, and it blows my hair in my face. It whips surprisingly sharply. It's about to rain; I can feel it in the air. It feels somehow charged, and I can smell the rain already. I stand and watch the city shrink in the distance as the ferry takes me away. The distance will hopefully help.

I am grieving the loss of something I never even had. Even so, the decision to go home was a good one. Just being in my old house in Forks makes me feel better. The warm hugs from my parents are welcome.

I do nothing much at all, but it's nice to do nothing with family around. After the drive last night, I even managed to get a pretty good night's sleep considering. Leah comes around on Saturday evening for dinner. Mom has cooked a meatloaf, one of my favorites, and opened a bottle of wine.

The chatter at the table is light and superficial. Mom and Dad are keeping things light and haven't asked me much about Edward. They know the bald facts. I called them during the week, and they know I'm home because I'm sad. Leah is less circumspect. We are drinking wine on the porch.

"I still haven't talked to Sam," she says. "I think I'm driving myself mad."

"That's long past." I roll my eyes exaggeratedly.

"I can't stop thinking about it. Everything he says, every time he touches me, I wonder if he does that to _her_."

"You sound like you've decided he's cheating. Have you any other reasons to suspect?"

"He is keeping his phone in his pocket all the time. Like I might see something I shouldn't."

"Leah, can I be blunt?" I shift my position to sit straighter and knock her in the process.

"Hey! Watch my wine." It has swirled in her glass a bit, but hasn't spilled. She takes a large gulp of it. "Aren't we always blunt with each other?"

"If you look at his phone to check up on him, you're already over. I'm in no position to be giving advice, but seriously, talk to him."

"It's easy for you to say," she mutters sulkily.

"Yeah, it is. But it doesn't mean I'm wrong. This limbo that you're living in isn't healthy, and it's damaging your relationship whether he's cheating or not." I lean into her a little, trying to offer comfort from my harsh words. "I would be really surprised if he is. I've seen the way he looks at you."

"I've been trying to gauge if anything is different. He seems distant, but I think I've pushed him away."

"Seriously, talk to him!"

"I will. I _have_ to. You're right, I can't live like this. Don't get used to me saying that either. Anyway, tell me the deal with this Edward. Dad said that he'd knocked up his ex-wife or something."

Leah calls Charlie dad, just as I call Sue mom. Leah doesn't really remember her father, just glimpses of memory here and there, she once told me. Harry Clearwater, her father, and Sue's first husband died of a heart attack when Leah was only two months old. We used to visit his grave every June as a family for his birthday. Mom, Dad, and Leah still do.

I have finished my wine and set the wineglass down on the floor, playing for time. "Ex-girlfriend," I say.

"What's he doing having sex with her?"

"I have no idea. I don't think he even likes her." I hear the sour note in my own voice.

"Tell me it wasn't while you were dating." Her eyebrows are high on her forehead and I can tell she's preparing to go into _I'm going to kill him_ mode.

"He said it was before, but who knows?" I shrug.

"She's in L.A?"

I nod.

Her expression turns calculating. "Doesn't he know it's the twenty-first century? You can do things differently."

I shrug. "Maybe he didn't get the memo."

"Did you talk about it with him?"

"What? I wasn't going to talk him into staying if he wants to go – it's his kid."

"Did you not get the memo either? Or are you nursing bruised pride?"

I frown at her.

She hands me her half-full wine glass. "Here, drink this. I was going to help you out with the bottle and stay over, but I'm going to bite the bullet and talk to Sam tonight."

I grasp the stem and hold it up to her. "Good luck."

"I'm not going yet. He's at the game until nine-ish. But I'm stopping drinking so I can drive home. Anyway, what is it about this one that makes you care? You didn't seem too bothered about the others."

"I wasn't." What is the difference with Edward?

"Is he hot?"

"Yeah, and some." God, he's so beautiful. I briefly remember what it felt like to be held in his strong arms. The absence of him is a knife to the gut.

"What's he look like?"

"Dark hair; auburn in the sunlight. Green eyes. He's around six foot two. He's built well – defined muscles without being too bulky."

"Good looks help, but I guess it's not his body that has you moping around like a wet weekend?" She nudges me a little.

"No, it was just a bonus. He got me Lee – really got me. No one ever has before, not a man anyway. It's like he could look right inside me. The strangest thing was that I didn't mind. I didn't want to hide anything from him."

"You were falling in love with him."

Her words take me by surprise. "No, I mean, I didn't know him long enough. It was just a few dates."

"Love doesn't have a time limit. When you know, you know."

"He took me to this meadow he found when he was younger. It felt special, and like he was sharing something just with me. He took me whale watching. I hadn't even told him I liked things like that, he just knew. He made me s'mores."

"Oh. My. God! S'mores?" There is jubilation in her voice. I glare at her. "I know, I know, we don't talk about the s'more incident. So you have a new s'mores story?"

"I guess so."

"Did you and he…" she trails off, but I get her meaning.

"No, we almost did. We were just working up to it when he got the phone call about the baby. I guess it wasn't meant to be. I don't know if it's better or worse."

"Wait, he answered the phone? In the middle?" Her eyes bug out of her head.

I laugh. "I'm not telling it right. He was ignoring messages on his cell all afternoon, but she called the landline. Not as easy to ignore, and it was getting ridiculous; he had to answer."

"What a come down that must have been. Bet he's got blue balls."

I laugh again in spite of myself. Leah can always make me laugh, even when she's being mean to me. "What does love feel like?" I ask.

"Like you're not entirely in control of your own life anymore, because there is another person whose thoughts and feelings matter to you as much as your own. It's terrifying but beautiful, too. Unrequited love, I'm coming to experience, is a bitch."

"I'm sure that Sam loves you." I nudge her back.

"I hope so. I don't know what I'm going to do if he doesn't." I can see her preparing to confront him. It's written on her face and her eyes stray to the distance as she thinks it through.

"Drink wine with me on the porch?"

"No way. I have more fight in me." She gives me a glare. Is that what happened? I didn't put up a fight. I didn't ask him to stay. Was that because I was afraid that he'd still go or was I just afraid period? Either way, look where that got me. He did want me, didn't he?

"You know, I think the thing that is hurting me most, is that it wasn't unrequited. I mean, I'm not talking about love. I know that I liked him a lot and I wanted to be with him, and he felt the same. He's a good person. Leaving and going to L.A. to be a dad isn't what he wanted, but he's trying to do the right thing."

"Is he though? If his heart is with you, what kind of life will he have with her?"

I don't know the answer and Leah isn't expecting one. I drink her wine and we're quiet for a bit. My cell makes a noise and I look at the screen and see I have a text from Alice: _Just checking in. Hope you're enjoying being home. Send my love to everyone x_

I reply: _Yes thanks. Drinking wine with Leah. Have you heard about the offer yet?_

 _NO! Can't believe how much they drag these things out. Will tell you as soon as I know. Enjoy the family time x_

"Alice says hi." I notice the time on my phone. "It's almost eight-thirty," I say to Leah. She lives around a half-hour drive away.

"I'll go in and say bye. I'll take that good luck now."

"Good luck. Call me if you want to talk, no matter the time. If you need to, come back here."

She does call. It's near eleven by then. She startles me by crying. Leah never cries. This must be bad. I can't decipher her words.

"Slow down, what happened? Do you want me to come get you?" I'm devising ways to gut and bury Sam without getting caught.

"No, no. I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine. You sound like you're hyperventilating."

"He isn't cheating on me!" she finally gets out.

"Thank God!"

"He's mad as hell at me for doubting him. I have a lot of making up to do. And he's even more mad that I've spoiled my surprise." She makes a very unladylike snorting sound. It sounds snotty, and I resist the urge to gag.

"Your surprise?"

"Yeah, that's what the sneaking around was about. It turns out that Little Miss Perfect's dad is selling a plot of land, and that's where they were going that day. He's buying us some land on the coast. It was going to be a surprise for me. I always moan about this rickety old place."

"What a relief! I'm so happy for you." I am. I feel it deep in my bones. Thank God that there is happiness in the world. It gives me hope.

"Oh, Bells, I'm in so much trouble. I have a lot of making up to do. He's been scared as hell I was thinking of leaving him. I've been giving him the cold shoulder."

"I noticed."

"And I've given that Emily some really dirty looks." She blows her nose, and I take the receiver from my ear a moment. "I'll have to apologize to her, too. The hiding his phone was because he's been in touch with realtors, making calls about a mortgage, and trying to get an architect. He's going to build us a home." I can picture the look on her face; a bright smile that is a rare and wonderful sight.

"Well, I guess you better go and start making it up him." I am so relieved. Leah deserves to be happy. I'm so glad that Sam is the person I thought he was.

I turn the light off and try to get some sleep. I can't switch my brain off, but at least there are happy thoughts for Leah and Sam, not all my own heartbreak. We wouldn't have coped with the two of us in a slump. I have another call just after midnight. I have my cell on silent but the light lights up the dark of my bedroom and I open my eyes. It says it's a private number is calling.

"Hello." My voice is croaky, almost inaudible. I cough and try again with more success, "Hello."

But there is no sound the other end of the line. I let the silence continue a while before asking hesitantly, "Edward, is that you?"

The line goes dead. I don't think that Edward would be calling me from a private number in the middle of the night. But I wonder; does he want to hear my voice as much as I want to hear his? The temptation to call or text him has been ever-present. But what I said was right. I don't think we could be just friends. Even in the short time we've known each other, there was more between us. I don't think we could be platonic. But it nags at me that perhaps things would be different had I put up a fight.

I have however, in a catastrophically weak moment, taken to Google. I just wanted to see his face. I went to his website and looked at the photo of him opening Amber Tower. But Google is an addictive thing and I end up seeing a few different photos of him on the images tab. He is usually in a shirt and tie at some event and often _she_ is on his arm. I hadn't meant to see her. I regret that I have.

She is beautiful. She has long, thick wavy hair. It's a shade my gran would have called strawberry blonde. She is petite but with large breasts; the classic pin up figure. In every photo, she is wearing a skimpy gown and towering high heels. She favors showing her back to the camera and turning to look over her shoulder. Her body turns into Edwards, and she places a hand on his chest. They make a stunning couple.

She makes me feel plain and utterly average. I try not to think of her as the competition, but I fail. He left me for her. She's the woman that he takes to bed at night. My ego is too fragile to sustain the blow. The green devil has come to pay a call. I am unfamiliar with the feeling. Its bite is deep and painful. When I think of Edward making a family with _her_ , I feel its talons sink into me, and the pain is acute. My thoughts take a negative turn, and I am awake long into the night.

Leah and Sam come over for Sunday lunch as is tradition. Sam shares their news about the plot.

"It's a plot up near Rialto beach," he explains. "There's a lot of ground work that needs doing before we can build, but the sale is in its final stages, so I'm talking to a couple of contractors for quotes."

"I'm so glad it's all working out, Sam," says Mom.

Leah and I exchange a look. "Wait, Mom, you _knew_?" she asks.

"Yes, Sam asked me to take a look to see if you'd like it."

Leah and I roll our eyes at each other. If she'd only mentioned this to Mom, this whole drama wouldn't have happened!

Mom looks confused by our exchange. "Do you like it, sweetie?"

"Yeah, we drove by there this morning. It's so peaceful. There aren't any other houses there. Sam is so good to me," she adds. The glance that passes between her and Sam holds so much. I can tell that they're going to be fine.

The drive back to Seattle is more peaceful than the drive to Forks. I have gained some perspective and some peace from being home. What is meant to be will be. Maybe it's all gone wrong because something better is just around the corner. I just have to keep the faith. This is not the defining moment of my life. This will not be my story.

 **Author's Note**

 **Thank you so much for sticking with this story. I hope you're enjoying it. Please let me know what you think. I know many readers chose whether to read based on review count, so any help you can give me in that direction is very welcome.** **I want to say a particular thank you to my regular reviewers – I so love to hear from you.**

 **Songster, thank you so much for your patience with me. I don't know what I would do without you.**

 **Rhian xx**


	18. Chapter 18

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 18**

"How have you been?" Jake asks. We are walking in the park. The May sun is warm on my skin. I can smell the beginning of summer in the air.

"I'm okay," I say. It's been a while since we hung out.

"Alice told me that things have been tough with this Edward guy leaving."

"Yeah, I feel like I've been through the wringer a bit." I have been doing better. I do feel more like me. But I still have a soreness inside of me that doesn't quite abate. I haven't helped myself in one respect, though – I made a stupid mistake this week. I watched _Me Before You_. I knew it was a mistake as I pressed the button on the remote, but I just couldn't help it. It was just like the book – both brilliant and awful. They did a good job of it, and it was well cast.

Of course it had me in tears. At first I cried for Lou. It's so poignant to me; how dreadful to love and to put yourself out there and have it change nothing. Then I cried for Will and his terrible burden, and the hurt it must cause him to deny himself love. Then, selfishly, I cried for myself. My woes are incomparable, but I hurt, nevertheless. It haunted me, just like the book did.

There was a song on the soundtrack that stayed with me in particular. "Don't Forget About Me" it's called. One of the lyrics particularly speaks to me: "Without you there's holes in my soul." It's strange, I have been single for a long while, and I have lived alone for years now, but I've never really felt loneliness until he left.

"What was different about him?" Jake asks bringing me back to the moment.

"Isn't that the million dollar question?" I am quiet for a while as I contemplate. I can't seem to get Edward out of my system, so I have resigned myself to his presence. He is the third person in every conversation I have.

I wonder what he would think if he were here with me. He would enjoy the park at this time of the year, I am certain. It has come alive through the spring. The blossoms have fallen some time ago, but everywhere is green and thriving. I think he would be happy that I'm enjoying some time with my friend. Perhaps he would be a little envious? Perhaps he is missing me, too. The bite of jealousy is still with me, but the grip is weakening and the pain less acute. Green really isn't my color. I am trying to shake it.

"It's hard to say," I finally answer. "I guess some people just get under your skin, and he got under mine." I smile and shrug. I think that I'm putting on a good show in the main. I can even convince myself sometimes.

"Yeah, I get that." He pushes his hand though his shoulder-length brown hair and tucks it behind his ear. Some strands blow in the wind.

"But the world doesn't stop and life goes on." I let out a sigh and try for a smile. I'm not sure it's my best effort, but smiles do come more naturally now.

We walk a moment in silence, enjoying the outdoors. There is a freshness in the air that is restorative. I feel a calm that I have been missing of late. I am slowly reclaiming the park as my own; piece by piece.

"How have you been?" I ask.

"I'm good. I've been hiking quite a bit. I was out at the Olympic Park again last weekend."

"I bet there's so much to see at this time of year." I feel a pang as I remember my day in the meadow with Edward.

"Yeah, we did a trail around Mount Rainer. Got some excellent shots." A bird flies close above us and he looks up. I smile again, and it feels more genuine. I love the sound of the birds chirping in the woods.

"I bet you did. Who did you go with this time?"

"Eric actually," he says sounding surprised himself.

"I didn't realize you were back in touch." Jake didn't fall out with Eric and Angie like I did, but he didn't like the atmosphere in the apartment any more than I did and they drifted apart after graduation.

"Not very often, but we kept saying we should go camping like the old days, so we did." He shrugs.

"That's really good. I bet it's nice catching up."

"Yeah, it was. It's been a while."

"How is he? And Angie?" The wind blows in the trees overhead. I find solace in the sound; there is something so peaceful about it.

"They seem pretty good. They're living in Portland these days."

"That's cool. I'm glad they're okay."

"You are?" He looks genuinely surprised.

"Yeah, of course. It was a long time ago. I wish them well. Shall we head over there and grab a bench?" I point to the picnic benches in the distance.

"Yeah, I could eat."

"You can always eat!"

I've packed up some food for our lunch. I thought we should make the most of the weather. Jake is a big eater, so I packed plenty. He's vegetarian so I've gone veggie for the day too, for ease. Jake sets the basket down on the bench, and I grab the blanket and spread it over the table.

"What you got?" he asks.

"I made some goat's cheese and caramelized onion tarts and a potato salad. I have some French bread and cheeses too. Strawberries and cream for dessert."

"I've really missed your cooking."

I give him a look.

"I've missed you, too. Not just your cooking."

"I've missed you, too."

I plate up our meal and pour us some apple juice. My life feels smaller since Edward left. It's not really; it's just the same. But there is a potential that has been lost, and the excitement that made me feel more alive has left with him. Yet I feel it's important to make the most of what I have and enjoy the small things as much as I can. This is one of those times. It's nice to share it with Jake. I really have missed him. I hadn't realized how much until I saw him today.

"I was talking to Eric about work. It's ridiculous that I'm still a waiter. I need to do something about it."

"Can he help?"

"He said he might be able to get me a job at the lab where he works. It's grunt work, but it means I could be using my degree." He piles in a big forkful of food.

"That's great, Jake."

"Yeah, I'm excited about it. They like you to have some work to show them so we picked some specimens at the weekend, and I'm working on a project for them."

"What does the lab do?" It's cooler in the shade of the trees, and I put my cardigan over my shoulders.

"It's research for a green pharmaceutical brand. They're called EcoCare. Do you know them?" 

"Yeah, I've tried their products. They do a great body scrub. Hey, will you get discount?"

He smiles. "I'm not sure. It's not exactly ground-breaking, but you have to start somewhere right?"

"Yeah, you do." I let the thought sink in. You always have to start somewhere. So Edward was a false start. I put myself out there and I fell on my face. But I need to dust myself off. I need to get back on Match. I've not signed in in months. I turned my notifications off, but my subscription is still running.

"I'm proud of you, Jake. The first step is always the hardest." He smiles and piles another forkful of tart into his mouth. I hear a bark close by.

I get the impression of a passerby out of the corner of my eye. There is a man and a pale large dog. The hair on the back of my neck raises and my head turns quickly, without conscious thought. I just catch a glimpse of tail as they disappear into the wood. It is like time slows down, and I am hyper aware of my reaction; my heart is thumping in my chest, and there is a ringing in my ears. I hear a whine and fancy that it sounds like Stella. But that's all it is; my fancy. I often do a double-take, thinking that I've seen her and look to the owners face swiftly, only to be disappointed. I won't see him here again, I know.

My cell rings. It's a private number. I've had a couple of silent calls in recent weeks. I don't answer when it's a private number now. I figure they'll leave a message if it's a real call. The calls are usually late at night, though. It's unusual to get one during the day.

"Jake, do me a favor, answer my phone for me." I hand it to him over the table.

"What? Why?"

"I've been getting these silent calls. Maybe a different voice will stop it."

He takes my phone and swipes to answer the call. "Hello," he says. "Who is this? Why are you calling this phone?"

There is a pause and I think the person on the other end is talking. It takes me by surprise. They've never said a word to me.

"Who the fuck am I?" he says it like he's repeating the question. "Who the fuck are you? I am the friend of the girl you're harassing. Her six-foot-five friend who's quite willing to kick your ass. Now, stop calling this number." He ends the call.

"Thanks, Jake. What did they say?"

"The jerk asked who the fuck I was. I mean seriously. Do you have any idea who it is?"

"He's never talked before. I assumed it was a man, but perhaps a kid or something?"

"Definitely not a kid. He was a grown man. He had a southern accent."

This rings alarm bells. My face falls.

"What is it?" he asks.

"The guy that pushed me into the door is from Tennessee."

I have wondered whether Peter might be behind the calls, but had nothing to base it on. I saw them as pranks rather than threatening, but now they take on a new tenor.

"Do you think it's him?"

"I don't know. It could be. He has got a criminal record because of me." I need to think this through.

"He has a criminal record because of what he did."

"I know that, but that's not likely how he thinks. He probably blames me." The wind has picked up, so I put my cardigan on properly. I am suddenly cold. "He was abusive to me that night too, before he pushed me. He was telling me to stop giving Charlotte ideas, like he blamed me for her leaving him."

"Perhaps you should go to the police. It's just a phone call, but if he's trying to scare you it just isn't right."

"Yeah, I still have Officer Banner's number."

"I might have done the trick, though. What did you think of my growth spurt?" He looks impressed with himself. Jake is five-eleven if he's lucky. I laugh, and some of the tension is broken. But a sense of foreboding prevents me from enjoying the rest of our time in the park. I am glad that Jake insists on walking me home. I suddenly feel exposed, and can't help the sense that I'm being watched though I know it's stupid.

 **o0o**

The next day at work is a busy one. I've been working closely with Blake on the Johnson project and we are outsourcing more than pure recruitment, and I'm working with him in partnership on their _Great Place to Work_ project. It's exciting getting more stuck-in than I usually would with a client's workplace culture. I enjoy the engagement side of things, and it's a great opportunity to meet more people and get a good feel for the business.

"Can you help me with something, Bella," Charlotte asks. I am surprised. She has gone to great lengths to avoid me. She says good morning and goodbye, but she sends me updates on her work via e-mail rather than face-to-face. It makes me uncomfortable. How do you properly manage someone when they won't talk to you? But I guess she's getting her work done, so I'll give her some space. The timing feels off, particularly with my suspicions about Peter being responsible for the calls.

"Sure, what can I do?"

"One of my clients wants to video conference with me, but the meeting room with equipment is booked out. Could I perhaps borrow your laptop and book out another room? I don't really want to do it at my computer."

"Of course, no problem. When do you need it?"

"We were hoping to do it as soon as possible."

I grab my keys and say, "It's in the car I'll just be a minute."

"Bella," Jessica says. "I have a Lauren from Johnson's on the phone for you."

I hand Charlotte my keys. "You know my car right?" She nods. "It's in the trunk. Take as long as you need. I don't have any meetings booked in this afternoon."

"Thanks, Bella."

I take the phone from Jessica. "Hello Lauren, how are you?"

"Hi Bella, sorry, I misplaced your cell number. I just wanted to get some time in for the next meeting."

We talk logistics and schedule a meeting. We're reviewing the success of the latest intake. I'm looking forward to it. We've already seen attrition rates reduce in this short time.

I give Officer Banner a call in the afternoon. I find an empty meeting room to make the call on my cell. I tell him about the calls I've been getting.

"I know it might be me being oversensitive," I say. "But I thought I should let you know. Is it something that you can look into?"

"By the sounds of it, he's using *67 before making the call so that the number isn't showing. But that only blocks the number for the recipient, not from the phone company. With your permission, I can contact your phone company on your behalf and get the number."

"Yes, absolutely. Then you'll know who it is?" I pace the room as we talk.

"Not necessarily, it could be an unregistered pay-as-you go phone, which won't give us any ID. We don't have enough reason to bring Peter in for questioning at the moment, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. Like you said, it could be a prank. But what with the tires and the calls, I would rather do a little digging."

"Thanks. I appreciate it, Bob."

"Is there anyone else you suspect?"

"No." I notice a man standing on the street, looking in the direction of the entrance to the building. He has pale blonde hair and for an awful moment, I think it's Peter. Then he looks up and I see his tan face and broad jaw and breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe I am losing my mind.

"Have there been any other strange things happening? Maybe something you dismissed as irrelevant?"

"Just the calls. I thought nothing of them until yesterday. And of course, the tires." I turn away from the window and rest against the sill. When did my life get so complicated?

"Well, I'll do some investigating. I might need to talk to your friend at some point. What's his name again?"

"Jacob Black."

"In the meantime, you can block calls from unknown numbers, but it might be worth answering them in the hope of finding out more and assessing the situation. How do you feel about that?"

"I can answer them." It's no big deal right?

"Don't say much – just try to get him talking if you can. Ask him why he's calling. He must have something to say – that kind of thing. There are call recording apps you can download so you can capture it for me to review."

"Yeah, I can do that."

"Have you had much interaction with Charlotte?"

"I manage her at work but she's been very quiet."

"Has she said anything about Peter?"

"Not a word."

"Okay, thanks for calling me. You take care, Bella. I'll be in touch."

 **o0o**

I am slowly finding joy in music again. I am staying away from old playlists, but I have discovered a new album from an artist called the Rag'n'Bone Man. His song "Skin" is poignant and feels very relevant. His songs are full of emotion, and I let myself feel it. I let myself think about Edward and grieve for what I have lost, even if I never really had anything to begin with. I think it will help me process and move on.

I have switched my notifications back on for Match. I haven't brought myself to date again, but I feel that turning it back on is a positive step. I am disappointed by the messages I have. I am pretty sure that I would have despaired before Edward, and now that I have him as a comparison, I don't see how anyone will seem attractive or interesting. But it's an out-of-the-blue text that gets me back on the dating horse, rather than a Match notification.

 _Hello stranger!_ _How are you? I'm finally back in Seattle for a while. Thought I'd get in touch. Hope you don't mind. Mike x_

It's a pleasant surprise. I hadn't given him a thought, but he did say he'd be in touch when his work calmed down.

I reply: _Hi Mike, how are you? Did the deal go okay in the end?_

 _Yeah, really stressful, but mission accomplished! Are you still single?_

I feel a pang in my chest. I've never thought of being single as a bad thing. I liked being single. But now, now that I've lost Edward, it feels like failure. It also feels like I've gotten no further than when I started dating in January.

I respond: _Yeah, haven't been on Match much lately, busy at work too. But it's all good. Maybe we should catch up sometime?_

 _Just what I was going to say!_

 **Author's Note**

 **Thank you so much for sticking with this story. I hope you're enjoying it. There are happier times to come, I promise.**

 **I want to say a particular thank you to my regular reviewers – I so love to hear from you. And as a thank you, I have an EPOV for reviewers of this chapter.**

 **Songster, thank you so much for giving your time to beta this story.**

 **Rhian xx**


	19. Chapter 19

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 19**

I push myself to run until I reach the tree line. I am trying to build up my distance running. I am back to listening to Sia and her song "Unstoppable" is pounding in my ears. I embrace it. I am unstoppable. I push myself past my limit and glory in the feeling of exertion. I go another half a mile before I _have_ to stop. I am exhausted and lean on my knees to catch my breath.

I get the sense there is someone behind me and turn to see. There is no one there. I have that prickling sense that someone is watching me again. I don't like it. I think I'm being paranoid. Banner called to say that the cell isn't registered so there's nothing to question Peter about. The good news is that I've not had any more calls, though. Jake did the trick.

I call home when I get in.

"Hi, Mom." I am still breathless from my run.

"Oh Bella, I'm glad you called."

"How did Dad's appointment go?"

"It didn't," she deadpans.

"How come?" I lean down to untie my running shoes, and kick them off.

"He couldn't get out of bed to go to it. He's been stuck in bed all weekend with his back." She sighs.

"His back again? When will he learn to go to the doctors while he's still mobile?" I join her in the sighing. Dad really never learns when it comes to going to the doctor, like he thinks he can fight off all ills. Men!

"Doctor Gerandy is going to come out here tomorrow instead. For now he's said bed rest, and I'm waiting on him hand and foot." Her tone is resigned, rather than worried.

"Oh-oh. I don't envy you. You should have called." I wander into the kitchen to get a drink. I grab the water jug from the fridge and pour a large glass. I am parched.

"I didn't want to worry you. There's nothing you can do. He's fine, just grumpy. Your father is a terrible patient, as you well know. But anyway, I wanted to ask you if Mike might want to come with you for Leah's birthday next month?"

I've just taken a large gulp of water. I stop in my motion.

"Bella, are you there?"

I swallow, but it sticks in my throat. I clear my throat. "Yeah, I was just drinking. Erm, I'm not sure. It might be a bit early to invite him home." I clear my throat some more. I think some of the water went down the wrong way.

"You'll have been with him for three months by then, Bella! I want to meet him. You've met his parents."

I roll my eyes. "His apartment is attached to their house, Mom; it's not the same. I'll think about it." I crinkle my nose. I don't know why this makes me as uncomfortable as it does.

"You do that. Any news from work?"

"Not just yet, but I think it's imminent. Victoria has scheduled a meeting with me on Monday. I think it might be the promotion." Excitement bubbles inside of me.

"That would be great!"

"I don't want to get ahead of myself, though. It might not happen." I go into my bedroom and look through my wardrobe for something to wear to lunch.

"It better happen with all those hours you've been putting in. You've worked hard for it."

"I hope so. I better go shower. I am whacked. I ran an extra mile today." I pull out a red dress that I've been meaning to wear and hang it on my curtain rail.

"Well done, you! Love you, sweetie."

"Love you, too."

The hot water of the shower feels amazing on my aching muscles. I am meeting Mike for a late lunch before he flies to Detroit for work. It's been going well. I enjoy his company. We see each other at least twice a week but it's not full on. It's casual and comfortable.

"Bella!" He stands to greet me and kisses me chastely on the mouth.

"Hi Mike." We're in a fancy restaurant in downtown.

"You look beautiful. That dress is… wow."

"Thanks," I say blushing a little. It's a fitted dress in red with a zipper running all the way up the back. I feel sexy. I'm annoyed though because it would look perfect with my favorite necklace, but I couldn't find it anywhere when I was getting ready.

"God, I wish I could take that off of you. I wonder if I can get a later flight?"

I laugh. "I thought you had a lunch tomorrow to prep for Monday?"

"More's the pity. I think they'd understand me being a no show if they could see you. Do you think you'll be able to come out next weekend?" He picks up the jug of water on the table and holds it up in question. I nod and he pours me a glass.

"Yeah, it's looking good for an early finish on Friday. I'm going to book the ticket tomorrow." I pick up the water glass, and take a sip. "Thank you."

"I don't know Detroit all that well, but my colleague said he'd help me out with some recommendations."

"I'm excited." I find that I actually am. I do enjoy time with Mike. He's easy to be around and it never feels intense.

But every now and then I feel like I am pretending. Like I am settling for an arrangement that is less than I deserve. I can't do intense at the moment, and this suits me for now. There is that word again; pretending. I can no longer say it without thinking of Edward. I am putting on a good show. I am going through the motions. So much so that it feels real sometimes. But there are moments when the façade is all the more painful for the absence of the person who saw through it so easily. The moments are thankfully less frequent these days.

"So what are you up to this week?" He peeks at me over the menu.

"I'm spending the day with Alice and Jasper tomorrow."

"Any news on the house?"

"They should get the date any day now. Who knew it would take so long?" I shake out the linen napkin that was folded into a fan, and place it in my lap.

"That's what happens sometimes with a chain, it falls through somewhere and the whole thing stops." His voice changes as he continues, "I was wondering if you might help me look for a place?"

"Sure." This takes me by surprise. I'm not sure why. "Are you looking to buy?"

"Yeah. I was thinking of looking for a house in the city." He fidgets with the end of his fork laid ready on the table.

"That's cool. I would love to help you. Going around looking at places with Alice was so much fun."

"I would like your opinion. Maybe I could get somewhere that you would like, too."

My heart hammers in my chest. _Please don't be saying what I think you're saying, Mike._ I grab my glass of water to stall. I have no idea what to say. I have to think about this.

"Think about it," he says.

I peek up at him and nod. "I'm not sure I'm ready for…" I look back at my menu but the words blur before me.

"It's okay, no pressure, and no rush. I'm just thinking about the future, and I don't want to buy somewhere that I'll have for years if you wouldn't want to live there someday. Maybe."

I try for a smile. I think it probably looks more like a grimace.

"How are your parents?" he asks.

I am grateful for the change of topic, and tell him about my dad and how I'll be going home in August for Leah's birthday.

"Have you and Renee sorted out your trip?"

"We still haven't decided. We're debating whether to go somewhere in Florida or whether to meet up in Nashville."

"Nashville?" He looks surprised.

"Yeah, my mom has a thing for country music. It's not really my thing, but it would make her year and there's plenty there that I'm interested in too." I smooth the napkin on my lap unnecessarily.

"When do you think you'll go?"

We're interrupted by the waiter. He speaks with a French accent and reels off the specials with a flourish. He recommends a wine that would complement our dishes, and I curse that fact that I'm driving because I could really do with a large glass of wine right now.

"Probably September, but we're not sure yet," I answer when the waiter has left.

"You better get a move on and decide."

I laugh because I am usually a lot more organized. "Seeing as we're not all that bothered where we go, we're happy to book a late deal. It's more about spending time together anyway." I shrug. But I wonder whether Mike's words have a dual meaning. If so, he's not wrong.

"I'm happy for you. It's a great thing to do." His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

 **o0o**

Alice is even more buoyant than usual when she opens the door for me on Sunday. "Come in, come in!"

"Good news about the house, I take it?"

"Better!" Her excitement is unmistakable. 

"What's going on?"

"I'm pregnant!" She literally jumps up and down and claps her hands. Her hair swings with the motion and some static strands stand on end.

"Oh my God. Congratulations!" I give her a big hug. This is brilliant news.

"I just couldn't keep it in any longer." She shakes her head at the impossibility of keeping a secret. It really isn't her thing.

"How long have you known?"

"Almost two weeks!" She beams with pride.

I burst out laughing. "Two weeks?"

"Haven't you noticed how I've been avoiding you? I knew I couldn't see you and not tell you."

I laugh some more. I hadn't noticed at all. It's not that unusual for us not to see each other for a couple of weeks. She's talking like she's achieved some great feat of secrecy. "I'm really happy for you. Do you know how far along you are?"

"No. I did the pee stick test. Like four of them–" She holds up four fingers to illustrate her point. "– to be sure. It said more than 3 weeks, so at least five weeks." Her eyes are bright with excitement, and I want to hug her again. I am so happy for her.

"Have you been to the doctors?"

"I went last week and peed in a cup. They've confirmed I'm pregnant, but it's early to predict a due date." Her face puckers into a scowl. "There is a lot of weeing in and on things when you're pregnant. I don't like that part."

I laugh again. This is such great news. It feels nice for good things to be happening. It feels good to laugh.

"I'm not sure I thought all this through. How the hell am I going to push a full size baby out of there?" She points below with both hands, and then brings them up into an 'I have no idea' gesture. It's so Alice. I can't contain my giggle. "Don't laugh! This is serious stuff."

"I know," I say, but I can't keep the amusement out of my voice. "I'm just happy for you."

"I have an appointment tomorrow with the midwife where we'll get an approximate due date and have some health checks. I think they'll tell me to take vitamins and stuff."

"This is the best news!" I give in to my impulse and hug her again.

"Isn't it?" The apprehension that had clouded her features just a moment ago fades, and a tentative joy blooms forward. "I'm going to be a mom."

"You're going to be a mom!" I look around us. "Where's Jasper? I want to say congratulations."

"He's just stepped out for some groceries for lunch. I thought we'd have a nice lunch and a chilled out Sunday afternoon."

"Sounds good to me." This is a big deal. It's such a great step for my friend. I am intensely happy for her. But I can't help think about Edward with this news. How is he feeling about being a father? Tanya will be almost seven months pregnant by now. I wonder if he's happy. I feel a pang of grief at the thought that he might be happily moving on with his life.

 **o0o**

The phone is ringing as I unlock the door, and I make a run for it. "Hello?"

"Hi Bella, it's mom. I'm glad you're there. I wasn't sure you'd be back yet."

"Yeah, I just got in from work. What's up? Is everything okay?" I rest the phone against my shoulder as I go back to close the door behind me and put the chain on.

"Yes and no. Doctor Gerandy came around today and he gave him a check-up as well as seeing about his back. Don't worry, sweetie," she soothes, "but he's worried about his blood pressure and his heart was beating a little irregularly."

"What does that mean?" Please don't let him be sick!

"Maybe nothing, but they want him to go in for some more tests. It could be to do with the painkillers he's been taking for his back but they want to be sure. He's going to go in as soon as he's up and about again."

"That doesn't sound good." My mind is racing with horrible possibilities. I can't bear the thought of my strong independent, if grouchy, father being seriously ill.

"No, but it's best not to worry unless we have to, and you know your Dad, he's made of stern stuff." She's putting a good front on, but I can hear the worry she's not expressing.

"Yeah. How is he?"

"Obstinate." She sounds more like herself now.

"Can you put him on the phone?" My voice is small.

"Yeah, I'll just go upstairs. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, great actually, before this. I got the promotion." It doesn't seem as important now.

"Oh Bella! What great news! You must tell your Dad, too. I'll just put you on loud speaker." There is some fumbling and talking in the background as they try to find the right button.

"Are you there, Bella?" Mom says.

"I'm here."

"Hi Bells," my dad says. Their loudspeaker function isn't very good – the line is crackly, and they sound miles away, but I can hear them. "Mom told you what the doctor said?"

"Yeah, how are you feeling?"

"Just the same. I want them to do something about my damn back, not my ticker."

"Well, you have to do what they say. No thinking you know better – they're trained professionals. What is it you tell me? Roll with the punches." I try to make light, but it sounds hollow.

"Yeah, yeah," he says, and grumbles something under his breath.

"Tell Dad your news," Mom chimes in. But she beats me to it. "She got the promotion!" I can hear her delight.

"Aw, Bells. Well done you, kid. I knew you could do it! Good raise too?"

"Yep! A decent one."

My mom squeaks in excitement.

"I'm proud of you honey," my dad says.

"Thanks." A real smile spreads across my face. I'm happy to have made them proud.

I make my way into my bedroom to get changed as we talk. I take my high heels off, and placing my foot flat on the soft carpet feels like heaven. My bed is turned down like a maid would in a hotel. "That's weird," I say. I don't remember how I left it this morning, but I never usually fold the duvet back like that. Weird.

"What is it?" Mom asks.

"Nothing, I'm just going quietly mad. So what happens now? Tests when you can get to the doctor's office, Mom said." I pull the curtains closed and I rest the phone awkwardly on my shoulder as I unzip my dress.

"Yeah, he said he wanted to do some sort of check on my heart – just to be safe – and I might need blood pressure pills. I'm getting old," he gripes.

"Well, you take care and call me as soon as you hear anything else. Okay?" I hang my dress in the wardrobe, and shed my pantyhose. I am grateful to leave behind the working day and change into something more comfortable.

"Of course, honey. I better go. Leah and Sam are coming for dinner today. I'm cooking. Did you invite Mike for the birthday dinner?"

"No. I'm still thinking about it." I feel my face scrunch into a frown. "I'm going to Detroit with him this weekend. I can ask him then, if I decide to."

"I'm sure we'll speak before then, but if not have a good time."

"I will. Thanks, Dad. Speak soon, and do as you're told!"

I call Alice to tell her about the promotion, and my dad; great news on the one hand, and worry on the other. My life is never simple.

"Great news about the job!" she chirps. She's concerned about my dad, thought. They get on well and she asks for his number so she can send him a text.

"Do you want to come around for a chat?" she asks. "Get your mind off things… I can tell you about my appointment, too. I'll even open a bottle of wine that I can't drink!"

 **o0o**

I am running in the park. I have a lot to think about. Work has been crazy since the promotion, and it's keeping me on my toes, but I'm enjoying it. I'm worried about my dad. They don't know how long he's had high blood pressure because he never goes to the doctor. But it's put him at risk of heart disease and increased risk of heart attack. It's scary. They've got him on medication, a special diet, and have suggested exercises for both his health and to strengthen his back. It's ironic since he's the strongest man I know and has been a physical man his whole life. He does eat too much fatty food though and has a little paunch these days. They still want to do some more tests on his heart.

I have Mike to think about, too. I really don't know what to do. I avoided talking about the house situation when we were in Detroit. I like him, but the thought of committing to a proper 'with feelings' relationship with him terrifies me. I think about what I set out to do at the beginning of this year. I wanted to try new things; I wanted to date and that's what I'm doing. I need to be brave enough to commit to something, I think. Is it the right move with Mike? I can't help but think about Edward. I'm so stupid. Am I really clinging to the thought of him and denying myself happiness with someone else? He's gone and he's never coming back.

I see a flash of white-blond hair. A chill runs through me. There is a man walking ahead of me and from behind I think he looks like Peter. I slow, not wanting to pass him. I'm almost certain it's him, but why on earth would he be here? I take a different route to avoid him. I pick up the pace to make sure I'm out of the park as quick as I can.

 **Author's Note**

 **Thank you for reading! I hope you're enjoying it. Please let me know what you think. Some changes coming next chapter.**

 **Babyface Carter suggested a Stella POV for comic relief and I laughed so hard at the thought, I just had to do it. So for a laugh, I have a little glimpse into what is going on with Stella right now. Let me know if you want to see it.**

 **I had an EPOV to share last chapter and some people reviewed to get it, but they didn't sign into their account so I didn't have a reply button to send it out. Please sign in when you review this chapter or PM me letting me know you want the chapter 18 EPOV, and I will send it to you.**

 **Thank you so much for editing this story, Songster. I don't know what I'd do without your excellent skills and advice.**

 **Rhian xx**


	20. Chapter 20

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 20**

The phone rings, shrilly drawing me from my sleep.

"Hello," I say groggily. Mike stirs at my side.

"Bella!" It's Alice.

I sit up quickly. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, why wouldn't it be?"

"Because you're calling at..." I look at the clock on my bedside table to see that it's eleven-thirty. I never sleep that late. I look down at Mike, who is burrowing into the pillow, clinging onto sleep. I whisper, "Never mind, I had a late night. I didn't realize how late it was."

"Am I disturbing something?" I can hear glee in her voice.

"My sleep." I get up quietly and make my way into the kitchen. Closing the door behind me, I boil the kettle.

"Is Mike with you?"

"He stayed over. But I'm in the kitchen now. God, I need some tea. I'm parched." I grab a cup and drop a teabag in it.

"What were you up to last night, then?"

"We went out for dinner and drinks. It ended up being a lot of drinks and some dancing." I grab the milk from the fridge and enjoy the cool breeze. God, I haven't been this hungover in a long time.

"Cocktails or tequila?" She knows me well.

"Both." I groan. My head is banging. Why didn't I drink more water?

"You sure you're up to today?" Alice and I are going shopping for baby paraphernalia.

"Yeah, course. I'm hard-core."

"So, I was calling to see if you would pick me up save taking two cars?"

"Sure." I put the milk away and close the fridge door a little too forcefully. The bang reverberates in my skull.

"Thanks. Jasper wants to use the car. We're clearing out some of the junk we don't want to take with us to the house."

"Any news on that front?"

"Still waiting." She exhales a long sigh. "Maybe we could hit the salon before coming back? I'm stressed out."

I chuckle. Alice always wants everything to happen now. "Yeah, let's do that." Some pampering sounds so good right now. "Shall I pick you up around one?"

"Great, see you then." I end the call.

I take Mike a cup of coffee and set it on the bedside cabinet. He's still sleeping. "Wakey, wakey," I say and ruffle his hair. He groans into the pillow. "What time is it?"

"Almost twelve."

"What time are you meeting Alice?" he mumbles into the pillow.

"One."

"So, I'm getting my eviction notice with a coffee?" He turns over onto his back.

"You don't have to go if you don't want."

"I guess I have to move at some point," he says as he sits up and takes a sip of coffee.

 **o0o**

"This is heaven," I say. We are completely shopped out with mountains of bags—that I've been carrying because Alice is tiny and pregnant—and I am now sat in a massage chair while I have a pedicure.

"How is Jasper adapting to things?"

"He's great in himself, but I think I'm driving him insane." She pulls an adorable sad face.

"He knew what he was getting into with you." I close my eyes and groan in pleasure as the massage chair works my shoulders. I have been too tense lately.

"What are you saying?" I hear her move and open my eyes. She sits straighter in her chair with inflated affront.

"That he knew full well that you would drive him crazy, but he wanted you anyway." This makes her smile happily, and she sinks back into her chair.

"I made him go out in the middle of the night to get me food," she confesses.

"Cravings?" This chair is heaven. I want one at home.

"Big time. I can't stop eating banana bread and chocolate milk."

I chuckle. "Together? Ew." I can't bear chocolate milk. The thought of it turns my stomach. Of course I doubt last night's alcohol binge in helping on that front.

Alice's tone changes as she says, "What's _his_ problem?" I follow her gaze towards the window. I see a figure walk away. He's wearing a coat with the hood up. Who on earth would have their hood up on a day like this?

"Oh, he's gone now. He was looking in at us with this creepy expression on his face. God, it sent a shiver down my spine." She wriggles uncomfortably in her seat.

"What did he look like?"

"Tall, white. I couldn't see very well with his hood up."

A chill runs through me.

"I don't know what his problem is," she continues. "Maybe he's on drugs or something. Bella, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." I'm lying. My mind is awhirl and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and not in a good way.

"What aren't you telling me?" Alice demands.

"Nothing. I'm sure it's nothing." I follow the technician's movements as she paints on the first coat of the red polish that I chose.

"You're a terrible liar. Tell me."

"I don't want to worry you. It's probably nothing anyway."

"Tell. Me." She squeezes the arm of her chair with both hands so tightly that the leather squeaks in protest. I'm glad I'm far enough away that it's not my arm she's gripping.

"It's just that I thought I saw Peter in the park the other day. It creeped me out a little. And I think he was behind those calls that I was getting."

"No way!"

"It's nothing really. I've told the police about the calls, and they've stopped now."

"You can't keep stuff like that from me!" she screeches.

"Please breathe, Alice. It's not that big a deal, and I didn't want to worry you."

"It is a big deal – you have a stalker!"

"He's not a stalker. At least, I don't know enough to say that. Maybe I'm just being paranoid." I shrug. The massage chair is now working my lower back. It's more of an annoyance than a pleasure now that I'm having this unwelcome conversation.

"Shit. I wish I'd taken more note of what he looked like now."

"Can you describe him?"

"Not really, it was more his expression that I noticed. His face was all screwed up." She takes a long look at me. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah. More worried that I'm losing my mind than anything else." I snort.

"And you've been so busy with work lately – it can't have been easy. Have you told your parents? What about Mike?"

"My mom and dad know parts, but with Dad being sick, I haven't told them about seeing him. It's not like anything happened anyway. I haven't told Mike. There really isn't anything to tell."

"If you're worried, there _is_ something to tell. You don't have to deal with this on your own." She reaches out as if to pat my arm, but our chairs are too far apart.

"I should tell my parents."

"Promise you'll tell me if something else scares you. I hate the thought of you being afraid. Are you going to call the police?"

"And tell them that I was at the salon, and there was a guy that I didn't see looking through the window?" They'd think I was nuts. Maybe I am nuts. Do you know when you're crazy? Renee never seemed to be aware of it when she was out of control.

"You have a point, but when you add up all the little things – it's creepy. I have a bad feeling. The tires, the calls, now seeing him around... Does he live near you?"

"Not if they're still in the same apartment – they live in Roxhill. I've given Charlotte a ride home a few times. We're not really talking though, so that could have changed."

"Can't you check her HR file?"

"I knew there was a reason we're friends." She has good ideas. "I think I will." Maybe I'll send an e-mail out for everyone to update their details so I'll know it's up to date. It's not creepy if he just happens to live locally after all.

"Can I ask a question?" She sounds as if it's a question I won't want to answer.

"Like you're not going to ask if I say no?" I raise my eyebrows at her.

"Can I?" she insists.

"Sure."

"Why haven't you told Mike? Your parents, I get. They'd be worried; they're miles away, and with Charlie being poorly… but why not Mike?" Her face is open, and her eyes search mine.

"I don't know. I guess he wasn't around for the assault, and it's not something I really want to talk about. How would I bring it up anyway?" I can't imagine how that conversation would go. "And the recent stuff, I'm pretty sure that I'm being paranoid. You look like you have another question."

"I do, but it's a bit…" she trails off.

"Go."

"Is he not your confidant?" Her eyes are wide and sad.

"We talk. We share stuff. But I guess I've been keeping him at arm's length. I like that it's casual."

"Are you happy with him, Bella?"

"Yeah, I am. He's a good guy." I hear how hollow my words sound.

"But…"

"He's not Edward." I sigh. I feel pathetic.

"Have you heard from him?"

"No, we agreed that we wouldn't be in contact for a while. It's pointless, and would be wrong when he's with her. I know I'm being stupid. We barely knew each other, and he's gone now anyway." I notice that my shoulders have rolled in on themselves, and I straighten out, and sit back in the chair.

"Don't call yourself stupid – you're not. Your feelings are real, and for what it's worth; I think his were, too. It's okay to not be okay sometimes, you know."

"Thanks, but it's been a while now. I thought that being with Mike would be a good step forward, but I just feel out of step somehow. I like his company and he's a nice guy, but is that enough?" Alice probably isn't the best person to discuss this with. She and Jasper are the perfect match. They definitely have a connection beyond the norm – the type of connection I had hoped to have. Am I dreaming too big? Not everyone can have some epic love tale. Nothing else in my life has been epic – why love?

"It's a start. He's here. You never know what might grow from it." The sympathy in her eyes chafes my pride a little.

"He mentioned buying a house that I might like to live in someday." I wince. "I nearly crapped my pants."

She laughs. "Sorry, it's not funny. Are you scared because you're scared of that kind of commitment, or because you're not sure you want it with him?"

"Both, I think." I snort at myself. What a mess.

"Does he make you laugh?"

"Yes."

"Does he make you feel special and interesting?" Her face glows. She's thinking of Jasper, I'd wager.

"Sort of." I shrug.

"Do you feel comfortable with him?"

"Apart from the almost crapping myself, usually." It's true. I do feel at ease with Mike.

"Then maybe you should stop overthinking and go with it." She gestures widely with her hands. "You put yourself out there this year. This is the next step. Be brave and daring! I know you are."

"I am pretty bad-ass." My tone belies my extravagant statement. We chuckle. Perhaps I should give Mike a chance and just let things take their natural course. I can't seek perfection in this; I just need to jump off the cliff and let myself feel _something_.

 **o0o**

I am on full alert and on the lookout. I am running in the park. I have _Florence and the Machine_ blasting in my ears. I am on edge, looking around every corner, worrying that Peter might be there. I will not give up my run in the park. I feel like I'm being paranoid; I've only seen him here that once.

I see a flash of blonde in the corner of my eye. I turn to see better, and stop in my tracks. The world has stopped spinning, I am sure. My heartbeat is rapid, and my breath comes quickly. It has nothing to do with my run. I can't believe it. How can it be? I have stopped right in the middle of the pathway and am vaguely aware of people moving past me.

My eyes search for _him_.

He is here.

He looks back at me. My breath catches and the music in my ears is now just annoying white noise. I pull the earbuds out, distractedly.

He is here.

The glimpse of blonde that I saw was Stella. The eyes that search mine from afar are Edward's. He is really here. He walks towards me, and it's like my feet have been planted into the ground and grown roots.

He looks just like I remember, though perhaps a little older, a little leaner in the face. There's a tension in him that I'm not used to seeing. He is still beautiful, of course, and he is more tanned. L.A. will do that, I suppose.

The sun is bright and high in the sky, and it catches the auburn of his hair. The breeze catches it too, and blows it this way and that. His hair was always unruly. I liked it. What am I saying? I like it, present tense.

Everything is in slow motion as I watch him stride towards me. He is wearing a tee shirt with an open shirt over the top, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His shirt blows open with his motion. His tee clings to his muscular chest. He watches me watching him, and a corner of his mouth twitches up but he looks down, hiding his reaction from me. I see the ghost of a blush, I think.

Panic grows inside me. I am afraid. I am elated. I am—fuck! What am I going to do here? I don't think I can handle this. To say there are butterflies in my stomach would be an understatement; I feel like there are full grown seagulls flying around in there. My breakfast wants out.

"Bella," he says gently, and with a smile. That voice. That voice goes straight to my insides. I hate the effect he's having on me. My own body is a traitor.

"Ed-Edward," I stammer. I am suddenly very conscious that I am a sweaty mess without any make-up on.

"I'm sorry. I'm sure that I'm taking you by surprise. I've been waiting for you."

"Waiting for me?" I squeak.

"It's Sunday morning, I figured you'd be running here sooner or later."

"That's me – predictable." My eyebrows draw together, and I find myself staring at the ground. What am I doing? I should be looking at him.

He laughs. It's a joyful laugh that I feel he has no right to laugh in front of me, and my eyes dart to his face. "You are anything but predictable. You might have your habits, but aren't we all creatures of habit?" His eyes caress me.

It's wonderful to see him; the euphoria I feel is beyond words. But it's also my worst nightmare – I'm going to have to be civil and ask polite questions that I don't want the answers to. My insides churn. How dare he just show up like this?

"Look, I know this must be a shock. Can we talk?" he asks.

Who the hell does he think he is? Does he think he can just show up, and I'll be fine about it? While my brain operates on a different frequency to the rest of my body, I nod and begin to follow him to a nearby bench. In reality, the curiosity would kill me if I turned him away without hearing what he has to say.

My feet feel like lead when I finally get them to move. My pace is slow, and I watch him walk before me. This is so surreal. We sit, and Stella whines to get my attention. Her nose digs into my thigh. It feels like a relief to pet her. I have missed her, too. Her fur is smooth, and I find the motion of petting her comforting; it helps me ground myself.

"What are you doing here?" I ask with more steel in my voice than I thought I could produce.

"I'm still working on the children's hospital. I kept the house. I've been back here a few times to work on the projects that I had started here."

"You've been here?" My hands freeze in their motion petting Stella.

He looks sheepish. "Yeah, I didn't come to see you because of what you said. You know, about getting over things before we could be friends."

Is that what he wants – to be friends? I can't! The pain in my chest feels so real. I swallow and try to act natural, but my mind is reeling. He's been here?

"How have you been?" I ask, resuming the motion of petting Stella. And there it is; a stupid question I don't want the answer to.

"I have a lot to tell you."

I look at him, plastering a smile on my face. "Yes, I'm sure it's been a busy time for you."

"It's not what you think." His eyes wander over me. It's like he's appreciating some beautiful thing, not me; hair scraped back in a ponytail and wearing my sweaty running gear.

"What am I thinking?" Challenge laces my tone.

"That I want to have my cake and to eat it, too."

My brows knit together. "I never got that saying – what else would you do with cake?"

He chuckles. There is mirth in it, but also nervousness. "I love how your brain works."

He takes my hand. The contact is startling. It is charged, and I feel that thrum that I always felt. It a feels so healing, like his touch can take away the hurt that I've been carrying inside me. Having him here makes it blatantly obvious just how much I've been feigning life without him, and his touch brings me to life. I am terrified. This might really break me.

I snatch my hand back. "You have no right to do that." I cross my arms and stare at the floor, trying for nonchalance. The earnestness and intensity of his gaze is too much. I watch Stella, now lying on the ground, panting in the August heat.

"Okay. I understand that. Like I said, I have some things to tell you, if you'll listen to me?" His tone is pleading.

"You presume that I want to know?" I'm such a bitch when I'm hurting.

"No, I think I'll be one lucky son of a bitch if you give me the time of day. But I'm asking for it anyway, because I know that you're a good person."

"Picked up some manipulation techniques while you were away, did you?" I look at him now, trying to read his face. He winces.

"I deserve that." He clears his throat and shifts his position on the bench. "How are you?" He asks this question like worlds hinge on it.

I shrug. "I'm not sure I want to do this."

"Okay, shall I tell you how I am?"

I shrug again. I see myself as a sullen teenager in my mind's eye, so I sit up straight and rest one arm on the back of the bench. I will brazen this out. I look him directly in the eye.

"I'm awful. My life right now, is…" He shakes his head. "I struggle just to get through the day."

"What's wrong?" Is he well? Has something happened with the baby?

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What on earth? We've not even seen each other."

"That's what's wrong. I need you in my life." He says it so simply, so matter of fact, like he's telling me he needs to buy some milk.

"You _need_ me? What is this?" My voice has gone up an octave at least. "You're having a child with _someone else_. You live in L.A." I grit the words through my teeth.

"Yes, but I haven't been living with Tanya. It will never work between us, and I should have known that. Hell, I did know that, in my heart, before I left. But I had this stubborn pride about the kind of parent I wanted to be. Aspirations about how my family would be." He shakes his head as if dispelling the thought. "But that's not why I'm here. I am here because nothing works without you; I can't work. I can't carry out a simple conversation half the time; I can't _think_."

I stare at him. He appears to shimmer through the moisture in my eyes. I refuse to blink so that the tears won't fall.

"My head is so full of you. I'm here because I need you. I know that it's complicated, and I know that you have every right to tell me to take a hike. But I have to try. You taught me that, love." He is so earnest.

I have no words. That's not exactly correct. I have "what the fuck?" going around on a loop in my head, but it doesn't make it out of my lips.

He looks nervous and uncertain of himself all of a sudden. "I could split my time between here and L.A. I'll do all the traveling. I know I'm asking a lot, and I might be more than you want to take on. I know you might hate me, given what I did. I know I might have hurt you too much." He leans in as if to emphasize his words. "But I want to convince you that it wasn't Tanya that took me away from you. She didn't manipulate me, and she holds no appeal for me. It was my own pig-headed ideas and sense of traditionalism. It's like in the shock of it all – I got tunnel vision and thought there was only one way to do right by my child. I know different now. It's no excuse and I don't expect forgiveness. Walking away from you was the hardest thing I've ever done, and the worst." His eyes take on a fierce determination. "I promise never to leave you again. Say the word, and I'm yours."

My tears spill over and trickle down my face. I am angry that they do. I want a stronger front than this. He shifts closer to me on the bench. "Please, please don't cry." He takes my face in his hands, wiping at my tears, and I can't find it in me to resist. My face is on fire.

"You have to believe me," he insists. His eyes are fierce and hold a glint of something I can't quite distinguish. "Every minute I was away from you I felt like I had left something vital behind here. Leaving, saying goodbye was so painful, but I thought things would get better. I thought that distance and time would make that gut-wrenching pain go away. But it didn't – it got progressively worse to the point that a single minute was agony." He swallows and his eyes tighten. "I understand if you've moved on. That would be quite… fair. But I have to know – am I too late?"

"Too late?"

"Are you with someone?"

"Yes."

He deflates visibly, like his bones have lost their strength. "Do you love him?" he asks urgently.

"What does it matter?" I can taste the salt of my tears on my lips.

"It matters! It's all that matters. Do you love him?"

"No."

I see relief and victory in his eyes. He leans in to kiss me, but I pull back. "I can't. I… I don't love him, but he's in my bed right now. I woke up with him this morning. That matters. And you left me, you disappeared. He was there."

He stills, and I see pain in his eyes. He looks unwell. "Of course, you have to take time to think about things. I get that. I don't want to pressure you, or rush you. I know I might be coming on too strong. I don't want to frighten you, but I had to tell you how I feel." His hands drop from my face, and I am bereft of the feel of them. Conviction etches his features. "I think we could really have something, Bella. We _do_ have something, you and I, and even thousands of miles between us did nothing to change that. Not for me."

Not for me, either, I think. But this is too much to process. "I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything at all. Think about it. Think about what you want from life, and who you want to spend it with. And I'll hope to God that the answer is me. I'll do whatever it takes to get you to say yes."

"Say yes to what?"

"Being with me. Date me. Spend time with me. Let's see where this goes. I know what I want, where I see this going, but I don't want to rush you."

I try to read his thoughts through his eyes, but he's not giving anything away. He's too busy trying to read mine. "I'll think about it."

"Will you just tell me one thing?"

"What?"

"Did you miss me? Did you think about me?" I hear desperation in his voice.

"Yes. I thought about you more than is healthy," I concede.

He smiles a bittersweet smile. "Take all the time you need. I'll be here. I'm staying in Seattle for a couple of weeks if you want to see me, but even if I'm not here, call me. We can talk whenever you want, however you want. I know I have a lot of making up to do."

I straighten to look at him. His eyes are full of regret, and I can see from the way he swallows that he's fighting strong emotion. These are the words that I've wanted to hear. He's never lied to me, but this feels too good to be true. I need to think about this. I can't think with him here. The power he has over me is alarming.

"How am I going to walk back into my apartment now?" My real question is; how am I going to face Mike like this?

"I'm sorry. I know I just dropped this on you. I was hoping that it would be good news." He swallows. "Maybe we can just talk for a bit, until you feel more yourself? You know – normal day to day stuff?"

I clear my throat. "How is the work at the hospital going?"

"It's taking a bit longer than I expected, but it's moving forward. It will be functional but also fun for the kids, I hope. And you? How is work?"

Well, would you look at us having a normal conversation. How is this even happening?

"Busy. I landed a big deal. I got a promotion," I answer.

"That's great news!" His face lights up with happiness for me. Isn't that a wonderful thing? "Is it the one you told me about?" He remembers.

"Yeah, it's keeping me on my toes."

"And I guess you don't have to report to that douche you don't like anymore?" He remembers so much.

"Nope. I still have to work with him now and then, but not all that often. I'm learning a lot. I'm enjoying it."

"I'm glad. I'm really happy for you. Can I ask what happened with Peter?" His eyes tighten at this.

"How do you mean?"

"The sentencing. I tried to look it up in the news, but I don't think it got reported on."

"Oh, he got a three month suspended sentence. So he was on probation." I consider the date. "It will be up by now."

"Is there more to tell than the sentencing?" He has that frown line between his eyebrows. It looks just the same.

"I think so. Could we talk about it another time?"

"Of course, whenever you want." His smile is victorious, and I realize that I've agreed to see him again. "I want to know, though. I want to know you're safe."

"Okay." I nod. "Alice is pregnant."

"Oh, that's great."

I resist the temptation to say that all the cool kids are getting pregnant these days. "She's buying a house near yours."

"It's a small world." His expression is contemplative.

My thoughts turn to Edward's child. I push the mental image of a pregnant Tanya from my mind. "When's the baby due?"

He gaze changes, softens as he answers, "September 19th." Yes, conceived before Christmas, like he said.

"It's my birthday on the 13th."

"Yeah?"

"Every year."

He chuckles. "Like clockwork." He repositions himself on the bench, relaxing a little now, I think. "It's a boy."

"Congratulations." I try to mean it. "Have you thought of names?"

"I like Ethan, but we're not decided." I despise the 'we.' Even if all this is true, she will always be in his life. He will always be a part of a 'we' that doesn't include me.

"So, you and Tanya haven't been together for a while, you said?" I ask with forced calm.

"I moved out a few months ago. I thought that if I had space, I could get over you, and we could start again. But I couldn't get over you."

"I know the feeling," I admit.

"You do?"

"Yeah." It is a grudging admission from my lips. I hadn't intended to say it.

His smile is tentative but sincere, hopeful even. "You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think we were made for each other. I thought that moving back to L.A. was the right thing to do, but it wasn't. I've come to see things so differently." His eyes are sad, and I think I see longing there as he looks at me.

So much pain, and for what? It sounds like he's been as miserable as I have. "You had to try."

"I wish I had stayed with you."

"You can't change the past." Oh my God, I can't believe I quoting _The Lion King_. It wasn't intentional.

"No, you can't. But I'd like to think I can plan the future. I don't want to get too heavy again, but have no doubt – I want that future to be with you."

I can't comprehend the enormity of what he is saying. It's so beyond the realm of what I thought was possible that I can't take it all in. It exceeds any of my imaginings.

"Thank you for being honest with me." It sounds weak and cowardly in the face of his declarations, but I need to think about what this means. My gaze flickers away from his. His eyes hold too much; they see too much.

"You're welcome." He clears his throat and shifts his position on the bench. "Thank you for listening." I chance another look at him. Regret darkens his eyes and the set of his jaw reveals his discomfort, but his face is as beautiful as ever.

"I need some time to think." I reach down to pet Stella goodbye. She wags her tail joyfully, oblivious to the tension of the scene playing out in front of her.

"Of course. I'm not going anywhere." He frowns as if a bitter thought crosses his mind, and then shakes it away.

I stand. My legs feel weak beneath me. "I'll call, or something?"

"Yes, whenever you're ready." He stands, too. He shoves his hands into his pockets. He takes a breath as if he's going to say something, but pauses.

I don't know what to say either. To think we were once so comfortable together. Now there is so much between us – so much that has been said and done, so much that hasn't been said, and an absence that can never be taken back.

He takes a step towards me. His eyes are intent, his mind made up. "Can I ask one more thing before you go?"

I nod my assent.

"Can I hold you? Just for a moment, like old friends."

God, I don't know how I feel about this, but I can't say no – the thought of being held in his embrace is too tempting. I step forward in answer, and his arms slowly go around me. It feels like home. He is all around me. He feels so solid and strong. I inhale his masculine scent and let out my breath slowly. Stella is jealous and whimpers at our side.

"I missed you," I say.

"Me, too. You have no idea." He squeezes me tighter to the point of pain, but I can't bring myself to complain. He is here. He wants me.

I pull away before he does and say to Stella, "I missed you, too." I take her face in my hands and plant a kiss on top of her head.

I walk away slowly, often looking back to see Edward standing with Stella, watching me go. I have a lot to think about. I have no idea what I'm going to say to Mike. I need to think before I talk to him about this. How to manage things today? We're supposed to be going out to lunch. I don't want to lie to him.

Shelley is sitting in the garden with Bailey when I reach the apartment building. "Hi Bella! I'm glad I caught you. I've been meaning to come see you."

I walk over to lean on her fence. "Hi, Shelley. You okay?"

"Yeah, loving my new found mobility and this weather." She walks over to where I stand. She does look much more stable on her feet, and her stick is gone. "But look, you know you had that thing with the tires a few months back?"

"Yeah." Tension creeps into my shoulders. _What now?_ I think with trepidation.

"Well, I've been on the lookout for anything strange since."

"That's kind of you." I lean over the fence to pet Bailey who stands up against it so I can reach him. He sniffs me, and starts a little. I think he can smell Stella.

"I haven't seen any vandalism or anything, but I keep seeing this man. I didn't notice him that much at first. Saw him standing the other side of the road and looking up at the building." My stomach plummets.

Shelley leans on the fence from the other side. "I thought maybe he was waiting for someone. But then I kept seeing him. Always on his own – lurking."

"What does he look like?" My voice trembles.

"Tall, platinum blonde hair. Very serious face." _Fuck!_ "You alright?" Shelley leans across the fence and pats my arm. "You look a little peaked."

"Yeah, I'm okay." I shake my head, hoping to shake away this awful sinking feeling and focus my thoughts. "You were saying?"

"Well, I just thought that I should say something because it seems strange, how often I see him hanging around." Her wrinkled hands fidget with the top of the fence and my eyes track the motion. "He's always on his own. Once I thought I'd just watch him to see what he did, and he was standing there for a good thirty minutes. But then, he just did something on his phone and left."

My hackles are up.

"Once I was walking with Bailey and I tried to talk to him, see if I could find anything out, but he just walked away. He seems suspicious to me, and we need to look out for each other."

Bailey barks at some passersby, and Shelley tells him off.

"How often do you see him?" My heart is beating fast in my chest.

"Hard to say. I don't think there is any pattern. But I've definitely seen him a few times, just hanging around over the road. I've seen him in the coffee shop, too. He took one of those bar seats in the window."

"Um, you know I had some trouble with a guy at work the other month?"

"That swine who hit you?" She looks indignant on my behalf.

"Yeah. I might be letting my imagination get the better of me, but I'm worried it might be him. If I can find a photo of him will you take a look at it for me?" I need to call Charlie. There is too much to write off as coincidence now. _Shit!_

"Yeah, for sure I will. Hell, I thought he might be up to no good but not this. Hell." She wraps her arms around herself.

"When was the last time you saw him?" I find myself mirroring Shelley's pose. I feel suddenly cold, despite the warm day.

"This week, let me think. Friday I am sure."

"Thanks, Shelley. I appreciate you looking out for me. I think I might be able to find an old photo of him at one of the work parties. I'll look at work tomorrow and bring it home with me." I move a step towards the door of the apartment building. This has got to stop.

"Hell, I have shivers up my spine. You need to tell your daddy. He's a cop right?" she adds hopefully.

"Yeah." I nod. "That's just what I was thinking."

"I wish I'd said something sooner now." Her eyes are tight with worry.

"Thanks, Shelley." My mind races as I head into the building. What on earth is going on?

 **Author's Note**

 **Soooooooo, what do you think?**

 **Thanks so much for reading!**

 **Huge thanks to Songster for editing as always.**

 **Rhian xx**


	21. Chapter 21

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 21**

I am in a double daze as I walk up the flight of stairs to my apartment. Fuck! Peter might have been lurking outside my apartment building? This is too weird. I am completely out of my depth. I've been telling myself that I'm paranoid because I've noticed little things that could be inconsequential, but this needs to stop. I need to call my dad. I need to call Officer Banner. But what if it's not even him?

And Edward. Edward! I don't have enough space in my brain to process this. I turn the key in the door with trepidation. Mike is sitting on the sofa with his laptop on his knee. His mug of coffee sits on the coffee table, as does one of his feet. His fingers fly over the keyboard. "Hey, babe. Good run?"

"Yeah, I'm exhausted."

"You look it." His brow crinkles in worry. "You okay?"

I fidget with my earphones under his gaze. "Yeah, I just might have pushed it a bit far."

"No pain, no gain, as they say. Did you up your distance again then?"

"Yeah." I walk into the kitchen to get a drink and escape his notice. "I'm just going to jump in the shower," I yell from the kitchen.

"Sure."

Then I realize that I probably need more time to think than a shower will give me. I pop my head around the living room door. "Are you in any rush for lunch?"

"Nope, I have some work to get done, actually." He motions to the laptop in front of him as he says it.

"I'm going to have a bath then, have a proper relax."

"Enjoy." I lose him to his computer screen and think that perhaps I am a better liar than I thought.

I run a bath and sit on the closed toilet lid while I wait for the tub to fill. I have brought a book in with me as a prop to cover how long I plan to be in here. I feel devious. But I need time and space to think. The confines of my own bathroom are going to have to do. I have to breathe.

I realize that my fumbling earlier has twisted my earphones into nots and very deliberately set about untangling them. The task gives my fingers something to do and helps center my thoughts. There is only one place my thoughts want to be: Edward.

Edward is back, and he wants me. It feels like a dream come true. But I'm also in the middle of a nightmare – I think Peter might be stalking me. Plus, Mike wants to be serious with me, knows nothing about either, and he's in the next room. _Breathe, Bella._

Right, I need to organize myself. Lists! Lists help me process and plan. I open a note on my phone and call it Peter. Safety first. Dreaming later. I bullet point concerns:

A man has been hanging around my apartment building. The description fits Peter. He was suspicious enough and regular enough for Shelley to notice him.

I saw Peter in the park.

Alice saw an angry man through the salon window that could have been Peter.

The silent phone calls. The Southern accent when Jake answered.

My tires got slashed just after Peter was sentenced for the assault.

His suspended sentence is now up.

Next, what I need to do:

Call Dad ASAP and talk it through.

Call Banner tomorrow.

See if I can get a photo of Peter form the work photo board to confirm with Shelley.

Tell Victoria in case I need any time off work.

Consider the possibility that I am going insane.

I press save and put my phone aside. The tub is full and the bubbles float peacefully on the surface. It is in sharp juxtaposition to my thoughts. I am so wound up that my whole body is tense. My heart is hammering, and it feels like it's in my throat. I step into the bath and try to let the warm water calm me. But it's a warm day already, and I break out in a sweat that is more in line with my anxiety.

I wonder whether it's safe to stay here with Peter hanging around outside whenever he feels like it. I suppose that it is. I mean, he hasn't approached me, and my building is relatively secure. I have a chain and a deadbolt on my apartment door. I think that I'm safe enough. I don't like the thought of needing those safely features, though.

I've never seen Peter outside the apartment. Maybe it's not even him. But I _have_ seen him in the park. I know from my subterfuge at work that Charlotte still lives in Roxhill, south of downtown. Presuming that Peter still lives with her, there is no reason for him to be at Carkeek Park. There are a number of parks closer to where he lives. But it's doesn't necessarily mean that he's stalking me. He could easily have a friend who lives nearby. There are too many little things for me to write them off as coincidences now.

I take some deep breaths and go through the mechanics of washing. There is no use worrying needlessly.

Edward. My whole body feels like it lifts to think of him. It was so good to see him, to hear those words from him. It's like a dream come true. But what does that make me? A mistress? Stealing a man from the mother of his child? I am tempted to open a note for him too, but I can't organize those thoughts nearly so neatly. Edward wants to live here in Seattle part of the time and have a relationship with me. Wow. Can I do a long distance relationship? How will it work when the baby is born?

I said I wasn't looking for someone with children on Match. But this is different. This is _Edward_. Would I meet the baby? Would he stay here in Seattle sometimes? What would my relationship with the child be? How involved would I be? Am I ready for any of that? How could I let Edward be apart from his child half the time? Is Edward looking to spend time in Seattle just to be with me? There are too many questions!

I have a lot to think about, but the reality is that I have yearned for him for months. How could I turn him away when he's offering me what I want? More than I ever thought I could have. But can I trust him? Can I trust that this is real and he's here to stay? And what am I going to do about Mike? I need to think things through properly before I talk to him. What do I tell him? The adult thing to do is to tell him the truth, but how would that conversation go?

"Hi Mike, can you give me some space for a while because I have an old boyfriend in town and he wants me back, and I'm tempted."

No, I can't do that. And who I am I kidding? I am more than tempted. As afraid as I am, as mad as hell as I am at him for putting me through this pain only to come back to me, the reality is that Edward holds a piece of me that I never took back. Maybe I hold a piece of him, too.

I can't spend the day with Mike like this. It just wouldn't be right. I could tell him about Peter, but that would mean he'd want to stay. It's cowardly, but I need Mike out of the way today.

I dry my hands on a towel, grab my phone and send Alice a quick text: _Hi Alice, I need to talk to you about Peter. Something else has happened. Can you give me a distraction so that I can lose Mike today? B x_

She replies immediately, _Of course! Are you safe right now? Shall I come around?_

 _Yes, safe in my apartment and Mike is here. But I don't want to tell him. Save me? x_

 _Yes, I will come up with an emergency. Damn, girl!_

I wash my hair, and rinse away the suds. I feel no relief. Perhaps I'm protecting Mike by not spending time with him while I think about Edward, but I'm being deceitful, and I know that's not fair either. I pull the curtains shut as I dry and dress. I must peek out around them onto the street below about twenty times. There is no sign of Peter, or any man with pale blonde hair.

I have just finished blow-drying my hair when my door bell rings. My heartrate spikes and I worry that it's Peter. Or Edward. Don't be silly, I tell myself. I pick up the door phone and am relieved that it's Alice. Of course it's Alice. I buzz her in and open the apartment door for her. She flashes me an impish grin, and then charges in wailing very convincingly.

"Bella, I – oh my God. Can I stay here tonight? Jasper and I have had a…" She trails off as she enters the living room and finds Mike there in his boxers. "Oh, sorry I didn't know…"

"No worries, Alice. I'll just go get dressed. You okay?" He sets his laptop aside and stands.

"Not really." She cries into her hands.

"Oh Alice," he says and gives her a quick, and somewhat awkward, hug. He looks at me over her head and mouths, 'Shall I go?'

I nod and feel like the worst person in the world.

"I'll get out of your hair." He pats her arm, and retreats to my bedroom.

Alice keeps up the performance until Mike leaves. She is too good at this.

"I'll just go see Mike out." I find myself patting her arm as if her distress is real.

"I'm sorry about this," I say.

"Don't worry about it, babe. Look after Alice." He drops his voice to a whisper, "I hope her and Jasper are going to be okay."

"I hope so, too." I am going to hell for this.

He leans in to kiss me and I freeze. His kiss, once welcome and pleasant if not life-altering, is now... What's the word? His lips feel cold and slippery. His arm snakes around my shoulder, and he pulls me into him to deepen the kiss. I feel claustrophobic for the first time in my life. He pulls away and searches my face.

"Hey, hey, don't get upset. I'm sure she'll be fine. I've got a busy week but I'll call, yeah?"

"Yeah. Take care."

He kisses my cheek quickly, and I find the word that I was searching for – unbearable. Something shrivels inside of me. I don't like this feeling. I am not this person. How can Edward walk back into my life and change things so quickly?

I regain some of my composure before going back to Alice in the living room. "You are a phenomenal actress."

"Thank you!" She beams at me in pride. Her tears are gone and order is restored. Her signature fuchsia pink lipstick is pristine, and I suspect that she's touched up her makeup in my absence.

I sit next to her on the couch. "I was almost worried it might have been real half way through."

"It was so much fun!" She's missed her calling as an actress clearly.

"Thanks for doing that for me. I feel bad." I feel contaminated somehow. I really don't like to lie.

"He was kind. He's a nice guy. Why did I have to get rid of him? Wait," she says holding out her hand palms towards me, "what _is_ the Peter news?"

"You know Shelley, my neighbor from downstairs." Alice nods, they've met. "She stopped me on my way home from my run to tell me some guy with pale blonde hair has been hanging around the apartment a lot."

"Do you think it's Peter?" Her eyes are wide in alarm.

"Maybe. Things are stacking up a bit too much for coincidence now aren't they? Or am I paranoid?" I stand to pace.

"I don't think you're paranoid. What are you going to do?" She sits forward on the sofa.

"I'm going to call Dad for advice. Then the police officer that helped with the assault case."

"Has Shelley met Mike?" I can see the cogs turning in her brain, trying to make sense of things.

"She's seen us together." Yes, definitely a few times.

"So it's not that she's seen him outside then?"

"No, plus she definitely said pale blonde hair – platinum blonde, I think." Mike's is more of a sandy color. And surely he hasn't been hanging around _outside_ my apartment.

"Do you think it might be time to tell Mike about this Peter stuff?" I can see on her face that she thinks I'm being unfair, though she won't say so.

What on earth am I going to do about Mike? There is no way I can't hurt him. I've been terribly selfish. I should have seen that he was more into the relationship than I was. I must have been so blind. I take a deep breath and say, "Well, the thing is that I have other news, too."

"Spill."

"Edward was in the park when I went running this morning. He's back, and he wants me. He wants to date me, I mean." I stop pacing and stare down at my disbelieving friend.

"Holy fuck!" she exclaims.

"Yeah, and some." I resume my pacing. This room isn't really large enough for pacing, but I have to keep moving. "He said that he couldn't get over me, and that he shouldn't have left."

"Wow." I don't think I've ever seen her so lost for words.

I plop back down on the sofa next to her. "He said he'd spend half of his time here, and half in L.A."

Alice has regained her usual composure and crosses her legs. Her eyes tighten. "So, Tanya the bitch-troll?"

"He hasn't been living with her." I shrug. I don't know what to do with this information myself.

"Wow." She looks almost as surprised as I feel. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I – I want him, Alice." The amount that I want to rush into his arms and say yes is embarrassing. I mean seriously, I have my pride. Don't I?

"Does that mean that I don't have to hate him anymore?" This isn't the question I was expecting.

"Maybe." Where is she going with this?

"That would be nice. My heart really wasn't in it." She perks up. "Can I meet him?"

"What?"

"I never really hated him. He seemed too nice. I mean, don't get me wrong, I wanted to hurt him for hurting you. But if he's realized the error of his ways, I have it in me to be magnanimous about it." She says this like she is forgiving a fender-bender.

"Magnanimous?" I repeat dumbfounded. "He ripped my heart out!" I think the tension of the situation has gotten to me – this is definitely more dramatic than I usually am.

She nods in confirmation, and emits a short affirmative sound. "So are you going to take him back?"

"Um, I – I can't think about this right now. I need to call my dad."

"He's going to kill you." She says this matter-of-factly.

"I know."

"I'll go boil the kettle." She gives me a little pat on my knee. "Good luck."

Dad is full of questions that I can't answer when I tell him what Shelley told me. He wants to speak to her direct.

"Dad, that's a bit much isn't it? I thought that I'd call Officer Banner tomorrow."

"So help me God, Bella, if you don't put her on the phone, I am going to come down there and talk to her face to face."

I feel like I'm ten years old as I go downstairs and knock on Shelley's door. I stay inside the apartment building as she has an internal door, too. It is with some disquiet that I realize I don't want to go outside in case Peter is there. Shelley talks to my dad for a while. She is happy to help and has agreed to talk to Banner, too.

I head back upstairs with the hot phone to my ear and color in my cheeks. Dad is none too happy with me because I didn't tell him everything. I don't blame him. As he bombards me with questions, it comes out that I've seen him at the park and maybe the salon. Alice hands me a cup of tea. Her face tells me that she knows I'm getting a roasting. I mouth 'thanks.'

"Right, now you call Banner like you said. But the reality is that they're not going to do anything. It's non-threatening behavior, and he hasn't broken any laws that we know of. So I am going to talk to Andy and see if he has any good connections in Seattle."

"What do you mean?" I take a tentative sip of the tea. It's dreadful. Her heart is in the right place, but Alice has no skill for tea brewing – it's stewed.

"A private detective. We need to track Peter's movements and try to establish the level of threat. I want to know what's going on. I'll pay for it – don't worry about that."

"Isn't that a little extreme?" My voice is high.

"You're my daughter. Nothing is too extreme. The police can't help much with this type of thing because there isn't really any evidence of wrongdoing. But this pattern of behavior is worrying. If he _is_ tailing you, getting to know your habits, what's next? These things escalate."

I can't help but think about what Edward said – we really are creatures of habit. I have my routines and usual places that would have made it so easy for Peter to get an understanding of my schedule. But why is he doing this? What's his purpose?

Dad sighs heavily. "I can't stand that I'm not well enough to be there to protect you. I'm not happy about you being there alone. Can you go stay with Alice?"

"I'm sure I could." I look at Alice as her small form disappears back into the kitchen. "But what if he is tailing me? I don't want to lead him there, especially when she's pregnant."

"I'll call Seth. He can stay with you."

"I don't want Seth getting in the middle of it either!"

"He's family; family get in the middle of stuff. Anyway, just his presence will make Peter back off in the short term. Peter and guys like him only act when they believe they have the upper hand."

Act? Act how? "You really think he's a threat?"

"Well, first things first; we need to establish if he really is following you. If he is – people don't do that unless they have a plan."

The idea is daunting. What sort of plan?

"Now, don't get too frightened, the plan may be purely to scare you and nothing more." He sounds every bit the cop. I've heard him talk like this a million times. It's almost reassuring despite the subject matter. "He's been restricted because of the suspended sentence and now it's up, maybe he wants you to feel restricted. Right now, we might have the upper hand – he might not think we're on to him."

This is dreadful. How can this be happening? This is not my life, surely. "I'm sorry to worry you when you're not well," I say. My voice is small and I feel like a small child again. I want to run home and find safety in Forks.

"I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about."

"Edward is back," I mumble. Just for another topic really.

"What?" He sounds incredulous.

"Yeah, he was in the park this morning when I went running. He wants to have a relationship with me."

"Tell him to take a hike," he says venomously. My moping has not escaped his notice.

"He was trying to do the right thing."

"Well, it wasn't the right thing by you was it? And I'm not inclined to respect a man for knocking someone up."

I shouldn't have said anything. "Don't be like that."

"Look, be careful. Don't let this Edward stuff distract you." To me Peter is the distraction.

"I'm going to call Seth now," he continues. "And I'm going to see about arranging a private detective. You call Banner tomorrow so it's on his radar. Get that photo of Peter from work if you can, but don't talk to Shelley. I'd like to leave that to the professionals. I'll call when I have more details."

"Thanks, Dad."

I am deflated. What an utter mess. I should be thinking about Edward and my future, but instead I'm dealing with a potential stalker who has already assaulted me once. Alice is a comfort, but by the time she's leaving I'm glad for the alone time. Seth comes over later on and sleeps on my couch, for which I'm grateful. This arrangement definitely can't last for long; he's too big for the couch and he won't take my room.

Dad calls at around eight to give me the details for a Jay Jenks, P.D. who has an opening tomorrow at two. I need to call him to set the location. Jenks suggests a coffee shop as it's best to look like we're friends or business associates if Peter really is keeping an eye on me. The thought sends a shiver down my spine. We agree on a coffee shop downtown.

I talk with Victoria first thing Monday morning to let her know there is a potential issue and that I will do my best not to let it interfere with work.

"Seriously, Bella, don't worry about that at all." She waves away my concerns with a perfectly manicured hand. "I know you have a lot on at the moment, but we can all pitch in to help if we need to. I'll speak with HR to see where we stand on this. I'd be worried to think that Charlotte might be helping him in some way. I mean, she knows your work patterns…"

That's a chilling thought. "I haven't thought about that. I mean, obviously he could have followed me from work to find out where I live – that's my dad's theory. But it might be nothing."

"It's best to be cautious in these situations. I am more than happy to support you with anything you need. Work from home or finish at different times when he won't be expecting it."

"Thank you. Those are great ideas." I wonder whether Victoria has any experience of this. "I have a meeting with a private detective at two, but I'll treat it as my lunch break."

"Let me know if you need anything." She goes back to her diary, but a troubled frown puckers her forehead.

I call Officer Banner straight afterwards. He is concerned and interested, but ultimately, my dad was right; there isn't much he can do. He asks me to call him to report everything, even if I feel it's inconsequential so they can build a picture of what's happening.

"You see, Bella. There needs to be evidence of a threat for harassment charges."

"I understand." I sit at a small table in one of our meeting rooms. It feels stuffy and dank. Though I think it's probably more a reflection of my mood than the room, in all honesty.

"And for stalking, there needs to be a reasonable fear that he intends to injure you or damage your property," he explains. I know this from dad already. Surely this can't be right. How is following someone and scaring them not a crime in and of itself? They only care about property and physical injury? Why let something get that far?

"I completely understand your concerns," he continues, "And you're right to be vigilant. But there isn't a case for White to answer at this point. Perhaps if they'd sent out a team to investigate when your tires were slashed, that might have been different."

I understand my dad's insistence on getting a private detective more now. He knows the law and knows that it doesn't really protect me in this situation. Thank God, I have people who look out for me. Imagine if I was Charlotte – all alone in the world except for Peter. It sounded like perhaps even her mother was abusive to her, maybe not physically, but you don't run away and start a new life thousands of miles away for nothing. I really hope she is not in cahoots with Peter. Mostly from a selfish perspective, I hate the thought that someone whom I have trusted would betray me like that. And also the thought that Peter could have that kind of control over her. I know she wouldn't want to hurt me. Or least I hope so.

At one forty-five, I tell my team that I am meeting an old friend for coffee and walk to the coffee shop.

"Miss Swan," Jay Jenks greets me.

"Bella, please."

"I go by Jenks." He looks smart and capable. His manner is mild, but I can see the steel in him. I would guess that he is middle-aged, judging from his balding head and grey stubble, but he has the powerful frame of a much younger man. "Thank you for meeting me, Bella. I know the outline of your troubles from your father, but I wanted to meet with you directly. I have a few questions."

"Of course."

He asks for details of the contacts that I've had with Peter and Charlotte before and after the assault. He creates a timeline in his note pad. He asks for every detail I know about them and where they're from. He is ever vigilant and looks to the door each time it opens. We talk about what made me suspicious of him, and I tell him about the assault, tires, calls, and the sightings, finishing with what Shelley told me.

"I would like to send a security specialist to your home to see where there are weaknesses and what measures can be taken to make it more secure. Your father was keen on this." His voice is deep and authoritative. I bet people so what he says automatically.

"Sure."

"Tomorrow at six?"

I nod. "Okay. Is there anything that I should be doing to, I don't know, de-escalate this somehow?" I find myself fidgeting with the zipper on my purse. I fold my hands in my lap when I realize what I'm doing.

"Yes, don't engage with him at all. If you see him, turn in the opposite direction." He tents his fingers together, and I notice how large his hands are. "It would be cautious to assume that Charlotte feeds him information on your whereabouts, so I would be careful not to reveal anything to your colleagues."

I have a sinking feeling in my stomach. How has it come to this?

"But for the next couple of days, I would ask that you keep to your usual routine." He pulls at the lapels on his no-doubt designer suit, adjusting his jacket. "There is no reason to think that you're in imminent danger, and I and my colleagues would like to assess the risk as it stands."

"Assess how?" I am so out of my depth. Hopefully so is Peter. Jenks is a man not to be taken lightly.

"We plan to use surveillance techniques to understand Mr. White's patterns, level of knowledge about your habits, and try to determine his plans."

Plans. It used to be a good word, a fun word, but now it makes me shiver.

"If you change your habits suddenly, he will know something is awry. For now, it's in our interests to let him think that he is in control of the situation."

"You've done this kind of thing before?"

"I am very experienced in my work." His face is so very serious, all down to business and not a hint of levity. I suppose it suits the circumstances, but my nerves could sure use a break.

"What usually happens?" I'm not sure I want to know, but forewarned is forearmed.

"The threat is neutralized one way or another."

"Neutralized," I repeat dubiously. "Have you always been a private detective?"

"I was a military man." I nod. It makes sense.

"It is early in my investigation, and I would like to confirm some details before planning what we do next. But I have rough theory about the way that he works." He leans in and lays his pen and notebook to one side. "My feeling is that he wants to frighten you to feel that he is in control as some sort of payback."

He takes a sip of his drink, and continues, "The tires were an annoyance and didn't scare you; information that could have been relayed by Miss Lane to Mr. White. He might also have stopped this approach as the risks are greater with the damage of property – it leaves physical evidence, which would mean he would be more likely to be caught, and this would have been a particularly dangerous path with his suspended sentence." He tents his fingers together in front of him again. "The phone calls didn't scare you, and he was likely frustrated by your friend's intervention. He escalated by appearing in the park that he likely knows you frequent."

He clears his throat and takes a sip of his drink. "But the advantage we have right now is that he doesn't know you've seen him. But I suspect that he will put himself in your path somehow. The next point of escalation will be to contact you more directly."

"Contact me more directly?" I repeat like and automaton.

"Like I said earlier, if possible, walk away. Don't go home, stay in a public place, and call for help. Call me." He slides his business card across the table despite the fact that I already have his number. "If he tries to draw you into conversation, don't reveal anything about what you know, it would tip him off before we can properly investigate."

"So I'm just going to go about my business like everything is normal?"

"It's the best strategy for the moment. We have an unusual chance to study him. He thinks he's under the radar, so won't be being careful right now. Above all, don't be alone with him. Disengage and move on."

I nod, not sure I like this plan. I root in my bag a moment, and pass him the photo of Peter that I found at work.

 **o0o**

Sticking to Jenks's advice, I keep to my routine. I am on edge as I go for a run in the park, though. I am dubious of seeing Peter. But I can't crawl under a rock. I refuse to. But in concession to my worries, I haven't got my earbuds in today. I want my wits about me, just in case.

I wonder if I'll see Edward. I want to see him; this I know. But what do I say? I owe him honesty. He was very honest with me. But I'm afraid and I don't think he'd want to know that. Thinking back on our encounter in the park yesterday, I remember the trepidation, the shock of seeing him. But what I didn't notice properly at the time was the sheer joy of being in his presence. I wish I had been able to get over the surprise quicker, so that I could have basked in that joy.

I wish that I had really felt and taken pleasure from his words – he needs me. He called me "love." He doesn't work without me, just like I don't work well without him. Though I've coped better, if what he's said is true. And to think that he's been here in Seattle, a stone's throw away –

I am jolted from my reverie by the sight of silver blonde hair. He is sitting on the park bench directly in front of me. His eyes spark when he sees me, but I see he is unsurprised. He is in a prime spot to see me come over the hill and sits there like he's watching a movie or something. It makes me sick to my stomach.

 **Author's Note**

 **Thank you for reading. I would love to know what you think. What do you think Bella should do?**

 **Thanks to Songster for editing, as always.**

 **Rhian xx**


	22. Chapter 22

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 22**

Peter! Peter is here in the park. His face radiates satisfaction, and I can see that he's enjoying my shock. I try to cover it, thinking of Jay's advice. I keep running, but I have to go past him to go towards home. I don't want to go deeper into the park. I need to leave.

As I pass nearer to him, he stands and steps in front of me. "Bella! What a surprise to see you here." He says it like he's glad to see me. Chills go down my spine.

"Peter." I spit out the word. I must try harder for nonchalance.

"Long time, no see."

I feel like I am in the eye of a storm. "What are you doing here?"

"Doing here? Is that any way to greet me? You owe me, Bella. I've had to scrape and bow and be a good little boy for my probation officer because of you."

"I think you'll find that you had to do that because you assaulted me." I grit the words though my teeth.

"I like your fire." He circles me a little, surveying me. But he still blocks my path. I look around to see there are a few other people dotted around. I am not alone.

"What do you want?"

"Patience, Bella. Here I am, just hanging out in the park, minding my own business. I don't need to want anything do I?" His voice is sing-song like he might use to talk to a child. "Patience is a concept I've been hearing a lot about lately. Did you know that anger, by nature, is a painful state of mind?" He says this with mock seriousness. I am sure he is quoting someone else.

"I haven't given it much thought. Why are you here, Peter?"

"I've had to listen to all too much drivel about it. Don't see why you should escape it. Patience," he draws out the word, giving it an extra syllable, "is a mind that is able to accept whatever occurs. Patience is to surrender any idea that things should be other than how they are."

"Interesting." My tone clearly indicates the contrary. But this is information, Jenks was right – this is about payback.

"I think you need to learn a bit about patience." His eyes glint dangerously at this.

"Why are you here? Don't you live out at Roxhill with Charlotte?" His eyes widen at this. "There are lots of parks nearer home."

"Well, this is such a nice park; it's worth the trip. I enjoy the view." His eyes trail down me suggestively, and my skin crawls.

"I have to go."

He stands to the side, letting me pass. I don't like the feeling of passing by him, turning my back on him makes me feel so vulnerable, and I have to pass by him much too closely for comfort.

"See you around," he says almost charmingly once I have passed him. I want to smack his arrogant face, but instead I run fast, putting as much distance between us as I can. I head towards the street, often checking behind me to be sure he's not following. I am thankful it's still light. I head out of the park and jog over to Greenwood Avenue – it's usually more crowded than the park at this time of day. I want to get lost in the crowd.

It's pretty obvious he knows where I live, but I don't want to walk back there with the possibility that he's somewhere in the crowd watching me like I'm prey. Seth won't be back yet; he has a late study group, so I would be alone in the apartment. Go somewhere public and call for help, Jenks said. I duck into a coffee shop.

I am glad to find that it's busy, and I buy a bottle of water. I call Jenks to tell him what happened. He confirms that I'm in a public place then puts me on hold while he checks in with his team. "You've got the all clear, Bella. Peter got into a car and driven south of your apartment already."

Wow. They really have got him under surveillance. Thanks for the heads up boys, I think to myself. "Okay," I say.

"You take care now."

I grasp the bottle of water and release my grip when it makes and awful noise and a lady at the next table gives me a strange look. "Wait, do I still carry on like nothing has happened?"

"For now. Do you still plan on having your brother stay with you tonight?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I'll be in touch when I have a new strategy. We've got eyes on him, don't worry tonight."

How is this my life? I don't want to think about this anymore. I find myself looking at my phone and thinking about Edward. I could give him a call. Start to talk about things. I need to open the door.

Hi picks up after only one ring. "Bella! I am glad you called. How are you?"

"I've been better if I'm honest, but I'd like to talk if you're free?"

"Of course, what's up?"

"Can you come to the Soho Coffee Shop on Greenwood?" I fidget absently with the bottle of water in front of me.

"Yeah. When?"

"I'm already here, if you can come?" I am bouncing with tension and can't seem to calm down. My knee jiggles under the table.

"I'll come straight over."

I buy him a latte for when he arrives. I set it down on the old oak table and wait. I have butterflies in my stomach. He arrives in a hurry, and there is an urgency about him; his face is set in hard lines.

"Bella," he says, taking a seat. "What's wrong?"

"I'm okay now. I just didn't want to lie and give you the usual 'fine.'"

He reaches across the table, taking my hand. "Please tell me what's happened." He still hasn't caught his breath.

I tell him about Peter. I don't filter. If we're going to have a chance, I need to be honest. And let's face it; he needs to know what he'll be getting involved in. He's not the only one with baggage. His face shifts between concern and anger, and at one point he looks ill. When I tell him about the park just now, I think he's going to cut off the circulation to my fingers.

"Erm, Edward," I say, pulling my hand back.

"Sorry, was that not okay? I just felt like I needed to touch you." The color returns to his face a little.

"It was more your grip," I say as I rub my hand.

"God, I'm sorry. I'm so angry." I can see it. The tension is thick around him, and the look on his face is one I've not seen before. I think Edward can be fearsome when he chooses. The gentle, caring person that I remember is hidden deep right now.

"I am, too. He kept talking about patience, like he was going to bide his time or something. It sent chills down my spine. But I'm doing all I can, and Jenks seems to know what he's doing."

"Where are you staying?"

"At home."

"Home?" His eyes bug out of his head. His expression would be comical in another circumstance.

"My brother's crashing on the couch. He's not there yet, so I didn't want to go home. I know it's silly; they're trailing Peter south."

"It's not silly at all. God knows what crazy thoughts are in his head. He knows where you live, and he's threatening you in the park!" His muscles twitch, and I get the feeling he doesn't know what to do with his arms. He eventually folds them in front of his chest and takes a deep breath. "I can't believe that you've been dealing with this crap. I would have been here sooner if I'd known."

"It's not your problem."

He reaches for my hand again and caresses the back of it with his thumb. "Don't say that. It is. Bella, it _is_ my problem because I care about you, and if anything"—he pauses as he shudders—"were to happen to you. I can't even…"

I cover his hand with my free one. "It's okay. It really is. I'm in good hands, and I know how to handle myself."

"Look, I know that with all this going on you probably haven't had a chance to think about us, and let's just set that aside for now and let me help you regardless."

"Help me?"

"My house is like Fort Knox. I have a great security system, and I have guest rooms."

"That's generous, but –" I draw my hand back. I am not ready for this. I haven't even figured out how I feel about him showing up like this.

"No buts. This is your safety we're talking about. You said that you don't feel comfortable putting Seth in the middle of things and him crashing on your sofa isn't the best solution surely? You're still where he knows to find you."

"Jenks asked that I keep to my normal routine for a few days so that they can get an understanding of what Peter is up to."

"Well," he says and swallows. "Don't you stay over at your boyfriend's sometimes?"

"Yeah, I guess." God, I really need to speak with Mike. I haven't even thought about him today, with my mind occupied with Jenks and Peter. My cheeks pink.

"And Peter is being trailed south?"

"Yeah, so I should be safe."

"'Should be' isn't good enough. It's too much of a risk. Please, let's go get some of your things and you can stay with me for as long as you want. I'm not even there half the time; it's at your disposal." He drags his fingers through his hair. "This isn't about you and me. If you want space, it's yours. I just can't bear the thought of you being in danger. Or the thought of not helping when I can."

"I really don't think I can do that."

"Why? Is it because of us?"

I nod. "I need more time to think about how I feel about this. You turning up here like that is a lot to process."

He leans forward over the table and says intently, "Please don't let that get in the way of your safety. I know it would be full on – not seeing me for months and then moving in, but you can treat it like a hotel." He leans back and waves his hands in a dismissive gesture. "You can do whatever you want."

The thought of getting a good night's sleep somewhere that Peter doesn't know about is appealing. But what about tomorrow?

"What are you thinking?" he asks. His brow creases.

"I'm thinking that it sounds lovely, but he could follow me back to your place tomorrow, and I'll be at square one, with you in danger, too." It's a disturbing thought.

"It doesn't have to go that way. Will this guy Jenks trail him tomorrow?"

"I don't know. I can check."

"Well, then, go home as usual. When we can be sure he's not around, come over to my house. He can't be following you all of the time anyway; he must have a job, a life." This conversation is surreal.

"I'm meeting someone at six to look at what security is needed for my apartment."

I think he can see me softening to the idea and goes in for the kill, "There is that bath tub that you wanted to try… and my poor kitchen hasn't had a good meal cooked in it yet. Stella would love it."

It would be like a hotel stay, with Edward added into the bargain. "Is this you wanting home cooked food?"

He grins.

"Don't you think it's weird though?" I fidget with the cap on my bottle of water.

"Weird?" The line between his eyes is deep. I want to smooth it away with my finger.

"Me staying with you. We don't know each other that well, and I technically have a boyfriend." Staying with Edward while I am dating Mike doesn't feel right. I really need to end things with Mike. I'm not being fair to him.

"Why are you whispering? Is he here?" He looks around the coffee shop, and laughter colors his features. Then he leans in, and whispers back, "Can I let you in on a secret?" I lean into him unconsciously. "When you use the word _technically_ in front of the word _boyfriend_ , it's only a matter of time before he's an ex-boyfriend."

I sit up straight. "Don't look so smug! I haven't made up my mind yet. I have too much going on in my brain right now!" I realize that I'm screeching and look around to see if I've drawn anyone's attention. Luckily, it's a busy time, and I haven't caused a spectacle. I take refuge in slowly and deliberately opening my bottle of water and taking a sip.

"Bella, the last thing I want to do is rush you, and look I'm sorry for cracking a joke. I was hoping to lighten the mood, but it's not the time." He brushes his hair back off his forehead. "I'm sorry. But let's be open here – you could have called him, but you called me when you needed help. That says a lot to me. No, no, don't look like that." My face must be a picture of outrage. "I'm glad that you called me. More than I could ever say. Call Seth, Jenks, your dad, whoever, and tell them that you're going to stay with me. At least until the security work is done on your place. I'll talk to them; reassure them I know how to take care of you."

"You'll talk to them?" This is just weird.

"Your dad won't want you staying with some random guy right now."

"I'm 29 years old!"

"I bet you any money that his response to that would be that you're still his child and he wants you safe."

I scowl at him. How could he possibly know what my dad would say? "He doesn't like you. He won't like me staying with you."

"Then I should talk to him. This doesn't have to be about us. You don't have to decide anything now. You don't even have to spend time with me if you don't want to. Stop being petulant and see the benefit here."

"Petulant?" I shriek.

He smiles a wide grin at me.

"Is this your version of charming?"

He shrugs.

"It leaves a lot to be desired." I cross my arms in front of me and lean back in my chair.

"Well, seeing as you _technically_ have a boyfriend, it's probably best that desire stays out of it, don't you think?"

He winks and I can see he's trying to lighten the mood again. Butterflies dance in my stomach. I scowl but can't maintain it, and it fades into a smile despite myself.

"For now," he adds in a husky voice. There is such promise in those two little words. My stomach tightens and desire blossoms within me.

"Okay," I squeak.

"Okay?" He is beaming.

I clear my throat. "Okay," I say more firmly.

"Let's go get some of your stuff."

We're not in my apartment long, but I felt on edge as soon as we walked up to the building. I pack some things and make the calls. Dad surprisingly is all for it and seems to have softened to Edward after they talked. How the tides have turned. I didn't catch the conversation as I was packing my toiletries in the bathroom. I should have listened in.

I feel nervous as I pull up in front of Edward's gate. I am driving my car so that I can go straight from here to work in the morning. It's strange having Edward's large presence in my little A3. I pop the trunk and Edward gets my bags.

Stella is pleased to see us. She bounces around me in a circle then leans into me while I pet her. "Hi, girl." God, she's gotten heavy. She's no taller than she was before, but she's really filled out.

"I'll run this upstairs," he says. "Do you want to pick a room?"

"I'll take whatever's easiest."

He bounds up the stairs two at a time as if it's nothing. I sit on the sofa and pet Stella while I wait for him. I certainly hadn't expected to find myself spending the night. How odd to think that I'll be sleeping under the same roof as Edward. Had someone told me this would be happening a week ago, I'd have thought it ridiculous.

"Have you had dinner?" he asks as he comes down the final flight of stairs.

"No, I was just thinking that I'd get cleaned up and change though." I'm still in my running gear.

"Of course, let me show you."

He walks ahead of me, and I can't help but watch his beautiful behind as he walks up the stairs. It's ever so pert. There is something fascinating about that line where his shirt is tucked into his jeans.

"I thought that you'd prefer the room at the back; it has the better view. There is a bathroom on this floor, but feel free to use the en suite upstairs for your bath. There are clean towels in both."

"Thank you. This is really good of you."

He smiles and nods in acknowledgement. "Take all the time you need, I'll sort out dinner."

It's a lovely room. There is little in the way of character, but it's light and large, and the view out onto the Puget Sound is spectacular. The furniture is beech wood; quality and all clean lines. The bed is king size and just from perching on the end of it, I can feel its luxury. I run my hand along the bedding; its pure white and soft to the touch.

I grab my toiletry bag and climb the stairs. I walk into Edward's room with trepidation. The last time I was in here I was all hot and bothered, and thought that we were going to make love in his bed. I try to keep my head down to save prying, but I can't help noticing that there is a large framed print of a whale on the opposite wall to his bed. I'm sure it's one of his shots from the day we went whale-watching. It makes me smile to remember that day. More so that Edward has chosen to remember it in this way.

A large claw-foot bath dominates the master bathroom. It's like something straight out of a magazine. I run a bath and try to relax. It's easier said than done, but I do manage to clear my mind some. Being here with Edward might not be the smartest idea, but it's nice to feel so safe. Peter doesn't know where I am, and even if he did, Edward is here, and the locked gate out front is comforting.

I hadn't realized how much the fear of Peter turning up at any moment was getting to me until it's gone. Its absence is bolstering, and I let myself enjoy the simplicity of the bath, so different to the one I took yesterday. I let my troubles float away from me.

I feel like I'm falling and start. I must have dozed off. Crap! I hope it hasn't been long. I wash quickly and go back to my room. I'm glad to see that it's only eight-thirty, so I didn't nod off for long.

I feel meek when I step onto the ground floor. "Sorry, I was a while. I fell asleep."

Edward is sitting on the sofa and turns to see me. He looks at me for what feels like a long time before he says, "You look good. You look the most relaxed I've seen you since I've been back. I like the PJ's."

I blush a little, and look down. I am wearing white cotton pajamas. They're relatively attractive and have a camisole style top, but they definitely aren't the type of nightwear I had expected to wear in front of Edward for the first time. He seems to appreciate them though, given the way he's looking at me.

He must realize he's staring, and stands up quickly. "Hungry?"

"Starved." I realize I haven't eaten much at all today.

"I have some lasagna heating in the oven. Do you want some garlic bread?"

"Not for me, thanks." I don't want to add to my current debacle by smelling of garlic.

Edward has laid the table for us. There are wine glasses and linen napkins. A bottle of red is open and breathing.

"I feel underdressed," I say.

"You look lovely." His eyes are warm.

It feels surprisingly relaxing, eating with Edward. Conversation is easy, and we talk much like we used to. We talk about what has happened since we last saw each other. We talk long after we've finished eating, and we move to the sofa. Stella lies sprawled out at our feet.

I find myself leaning against Edward as we sit, and I'm not sure how that happened. I didn't notice how close we were getting. The wine is mellow but strong, and I think it's gone to my head.

I'm mostly surprised by how natural it feels. As much as I have fears and doubts about his sudden reappearance, I don't feel like there is any distance between us in this moment, and I feel like I have known him forever.

Edward tucks my damp hair behind my ear. "I've really missed you."

"I've missed you, too. More than I thought possible." I can't stop the words. It frightens me how little I can hide from him.

"I think I've thought most about that day we went whale-watching. I have looked at those photos more than I should have." He looks chastened by this admission.

"I saw the print in your room. It's beautiful."

"It is." He chuckles. "But I was talking about the photos of you!"

"I know." I am very conscious of his warmth against me. What am I doing?

"Did you think about me?"

"I tried not to think about you mostly, but I wasn't very good at it. I found myself always wondering what you would think about something, or what you would say if you were there. Mostly how strange it was that you could matter so much, having known you for such a short time." I can't look at him as I say this, and my eyes are trained on the wine glass in my hand.

His gaze is tender and a little sad. He tucks my hair behind my ear again, even though it's not moved. He lingers over the gesture. "Is it bad that I'm glad that it's not just me?"

"Probably, but me, too."

"You look sleepy. I should let you get to bed." His eyes are full of regret and perhaps something else, too.

"I guess it is getting late." I sit up and the change of position brings home just how tired I am.

"What time do you get up?"

"Usually around seven."

He stands and grabs our glasses from the coffee table. "I'll make sure there's some breakfast ready."

"You don't have to do that." I should be moving, going upstairs, but I don't want this moment to end.

"I insist." He loads our glasses to the dishwasher. "I'll put the alarm on and lock up, so don't unlock any doors to the outside, it will set it off. If you hear anything in the night it's probably me letting Stella out, so don't worry."

"Thanks for this," I say again. "I guess I'll head up then. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, love." The way he says it goes right to my insides, and I feel a little off-kilter as I climb the stairs.

I use the bathroom and brush my teeth. I am tucked up in bed with the light off by the time I hear Edward climb the stairs. Then I hear Stella's nails clipping along the hard wood floor above me. I never thought it was a sound that I would find comforting. I sink peacefully into sleep.

 **Author's Note**

 **Thank you so much for reading. I would love to hear what you think. I can't say thank you enough to those who have reviewed throughout. I am so very grateful. As a thank you, I have a small bit of EPOV from this chapter.**

 **Songster, thank you so much for editing as always.**

 **Rhian xx**


	23. Chapter 23

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 23**

Edward is chatty in the morning. I sit and listen as I adjust to the waking world. He is in full animation and telling me how good the Eggs Benedict are at a place downtown as he cooks us breakfast. He casually suggests that we should go one day. He places a plate in front of me, and we eat at the kitchen island.

A few bites in, I say, "This is lovely, thank you. It's a treat having a proper breakfast on a weekday." He has made us scrambled eggs and bacon with toast.

"It's my pleasure," he says simply. His eyes are warm and kind. I like how he looks in the morning. He wears pajama bottoms and a tee shirt.

"So you do cook a little."

"I don't starve, but I only cook the basics." He cooks them well though – the eggs are well seasoned and not overdone.

"Maybe I should get some groceries and cook for us tonight?" I offer.

"I won't say no. But don't feel like you have to. It might be late by the time the security guy is done."

"I hadn't thought about that." I am meeting him at my apartment at six.

"I'll sort something out. You've woken up a little now," he speculates, watching my face. "You're very quiet in the morning." I shrug good-naturedly.

When I'm dressed and ready to leave, Edward sees me to the door. He explains the alarm and gives me a key to the door and this fob thingy that works the gates.

"Have a good day," he says, and pecks me on the cheek. It's only the slightest contact; barely a graze of his lips against my skin, but it is startling, and a rush of blood heats my cheeks. I'm sure that I could get used to this, then again, maybe not.

"You, too. See you later." I give him a shy smile and am certain he hasn't missed my reaction to him. Damn insightful so-and-so.

The workday is long and boring. I find myself clock-watching. I never clock-watch; I'm always too busy. I'm also paying close attention to Charlotte. Nothing seems to have changed outwardly. I wonder if she knows anything about Peter's activities? I really don't like the thought of her being complicit.

With butterflies in my stomach at home time, I realize that the day has dragged so badly because I am excited to get home to Edward. I just need to see the security man at my apartment first.

Really, it's worrying to think how keen I am to jump in head-first with Edward; frightening the effect he has on me – just a peck on the cheek this morning had me tingling. I can't let anything happen until we have properly talked. I mean, what does the future hold for us with him in L.A. half the time and missing him the other? But being with him just feels so… right.

And _that_ is exactly why I need to end things with Mike. I grab my cell, and text him: _Hi Mike, are you free to meet up tonight by any chance? B x_

He replies quickly: _Sorry babe, it's going to be a late one for me. Tomorrow? Everything okay?_

I reply: _No worries, I know it's short notice. Let's meet up tomorrow. Can you meet me for lunch or coffee or something?_

 _Have a working lunch, but I'll catch you after work? Everything okay? X_

How to reply? I don't want to break up with him via text. That's just wrong. _I shall see you then. Yes fine, just busy at work_ , I reply, side-stepping the issue.

I don't relish the thought of ending things with him. He's been good for me in many ways. But Edward; he might just be the one. I feel that I _have_ to find out and see where things go with him. More to the point – I want to. There is a natural closeness that I can't deny. The way I feel with him is more than I ever had with Mike.

It's a Garrett Foster who shows up at my apartment for the security checks. Jenks called ahead to let me know to expect him. He is tall with mousy brown hair that is cut short to his scalp. He carries himself with a confidence and alertness that makes me think he is ex-military like Jenks.

"This buzzer system is archaic, and this door would be easy to pick." I can hear the disapproval in his tone. "The deadbolts offer extra security when you're in, but I really wouldn't be happy with you staying here. We're surveilling White, but we're not trailing him twenty-four-seven."

"I'm staying with a friend nearby."

He rattles the deadbolts as if to prove their inadequacy. "Is that location secure?"

"It's gated and has an alarm. A modern one," I add.

He nods in approval, his focus still on the door. "Want me to check it out?" He routes through his toolbox and produces a screwdriver, and proceeds to tighten the screws on the deadbolt and the chain pull.

"No, thanks. I am planning to make sure Peter doesn't find it. I was going to check where he was before I go there this evening?"

"Smart plan." He nods in approval again, and a chain rattles around his neck. I think he's wearing dog tags. He turns to me now. "So, I would recommend an upgraded locking system with an improved chain and some stronger deadbolts for extra security when you're in the apartment." He walks through to the living room. "Your windows aren't very secure so I would suggest some additional locks and an alarm system that you can activate when you're going out, but also for when you're home. Some even have remote surveillance technology."

"How much is this going to cost?" It sounds expensive already.

"It depends on the devices you choose. If cost is a factor, I'll recommend the best quality for the most reasonable price. I'll get a quote together, and Jenks will run it past you before I do any work."

He walks back to his toolbox, and I follow. I feel like I'm hovering. "Have you found out much about him? Peter, that is."

"I'll let Jenks fill you in on the details. There hasn't been anything too surprising yet, to my knowledge, but his behavior makes him an obvious risk."

I clear my throat. "I er, lent my car keys to Charlotte, his girlfriend, a while back. Maybe you could change the lock to be on the safe side?" I hate the words as they leave my mouth. Please don't let Charlotte be a part of this.

His eyebrows raise and he saves the verbal rebuke in favor of a glare. "Yes, ma'am." He is definitely an army man.

He does a final check and makes sure he's secured all the windows. With his toolbox in hand and some work clothes in mine, we leave and lock up behind us. "I'm glad you're taking this seriously," he says. "Jenks is compiling a report for the lawyers. He'll be in touch."

"The lawyers?" I have lawyers now? Holy hell, this going to cost an arm and a leg!

"Yes, ma'am. We will use the evidence we have to seek a civil harassment order to keep him away from you, on a legal basis. Jenks will talk you through it."

He must notice my worry and adds, "Don't fret. We don't do anything without your permission. It's just the usual way of things."

I'm the one nodding now. "I guess you do this sort of thing all the time." I notice my arms are crossed in a meek way and loosen them as we head down the stairs.

"I'll just check in and find out White's location." He makes a call and uses some short-hand terms that I don't understand. "He's out of the area. Can I escort you to your location?"

"Oh that's very kind of you, but I'm going to drive over." I hold up my keys in evidence, and then feel foolish.

He stands with authority, full alpha-pose with his hand on his hips. I am so out of my depth. Thank heavens they're on my side. "You take care now." He clearly means this – it's not some platitude, and we part ways.

When I arrive at Edward's, I manage to get the fob thingy to work and successfully gain entry without setting the alarm off. I'm quite impressed with myself.

"Edward, are you home?" I lock the door behind me and set my keys on the table near the doorway.

"I'm in the study," he calls. His voice is muffled but echoes down the stairs.

I go upstairs to say hello. He's sitting at his desk, hair a mess, glasses propped on his nose, and a pencil resting on his ear. He suddenly looks every bit the architect.

"I didn't know you wore glasses," I say.

He looks at me above them. "Only while I work on fine plans."

"Can I see?"

He beckons me closer. I stand behind him and see that he is working on some very detailed plans. "What is it?"

"I'm just reworking some plans for the hospital. They've come across some weak ground that wasn't picked up in the original survey."

"What does that mean?" I rest my hip against the table.

"More time and money. We need to lay better foundations." He points to part of the drawing. "Just here."

He takes his glasses off and looks up at me. "How was your day?"

"Long."

"Mine, too." He looks at me long and hard, like he sees much more than the sum of my parts. "Make yourself at home. I'll just finish up here, and I'll be down."

"Where's Stella?"

"In the garden, I imagine. I'm surprised she didn't rush you at the door." He frowns. "Maybe she's at the bottom of the garden." He stands to look out of the window and I follow him. Sure enough, there she is at the end of the garden basking in the sunshine. No wait, now she's burrowing at the bottom by the fence.

"I better go stop her. I'll leave you to it," I say. I quickly change out of my work clothes. It's particularly warm this afternoon so I put on a summer dress and some ballet flats. I grab my sunglasses and join Stella in the garden.

Edward joins us after half an hour or so. He sits in the chair next to mine and smiles at me warmly. "Can I interest you in a Thai red curry?" he asks.

"You most certainly can." An answering smile spreads across my face, but the way he's looking at me makes me feel a little shy.

"I figured we could order in." I can't believe he remembered my order.

He gets the food delivered, and we eat outside. I fill him in on the security visit. "So thanks again for letting me stay. He really wasn't happy with the security at my apartment."

"It's no bother at all, Bella. I really do want you to make yourself at home. So don't thank me." He takes a sip of his beer and sets it back on the table. The air is humid and condensation runs down the side of it.

"I'm going to see Mike tomorrow."

His eyes zero in on mine. "Mike – is he your boyfriend?" I can hear how uncomfortable he is with that word.

I nod, and his eyes narrow. He tries for nonchalant, but doesn't quite make it as he says, "Oh, you're meeting him after work?"

"Yeah. I thought it was better to see him sooner, rather than later." I have finished my meal and set my cutlery down on my plate. "That was lovely, thank you."

"How do you mean?" His eyes search my face. I know he's asking about Mike, rather than the food.

I take a deep breath. Here it is. "That I should end things with him – sooner rather than later." I see the relief flood through him. It makes me smile, but it's brief as I think of what I have to do. "I'm not looking forward to it."

"I'm sure you're not. Can I ask something?"

I nod.

"Are you ending things with him because of me?" He is hesitant, no doubt half-fearing my answer. I don't make him wait long.

"Yes." His smile is so wide I am sure that his cheeks must hurt.

"I want to take things slowly, though. This doesn't mean we're together. I need time to adjust," I warn. I'm not sure if it's caution or pride that's holding me back.

"Whatever you need. Of course." He looks down and tries to minimize his reaction, but the excitement radiates off of him. He grabs his beer again and takes a big gulp. His hands tighten on the bottle as if he's stopping them from roaming somewhere else.

 **o0o**

Mike and I meet at a coffee shop near my work. The look on his face tells me that he knows what's coming. My cryptic texts were a dead giveaway, I'm sure. Better that he's prepared.

"Hi," I say feebly. "How are you?"

I sit and hang my purse over the arm of the chair. I fiddle with it longer than is necessary in a useless bid to ease my nerves. He doesn't lean in for a kiss as had become our habit, and I am grateful for this.

"I got you some tea." He points at a cup placed opposite him in the table.

"Thanks."

He hasn't answered my question and is watching me with an expression I can't quite put my finger on. I look back at him, and I suppose the real conversation has already happened – we are already apart; on opposing sides.

I may as well get this over with. Small talk isn't on the table, that's for sure. "Mike, I think that you're a great guy, but –"

"I knew there was a 'but' coming," he interrupts. He shifts forward so that his elbows rest on the table and his hands are clasped beneath his chin.

"–I think that we should end things between us." The sounds of the coffee shop continue around us like all is well with the world. A mom at the next table is warning her son that he'll regret it if he throws his toy again. I see from the corner of my eye that he propels it joyfully at her head.

"It was too soon to mention the future, wasn't it?" Mike's face is glum, and he looks even younger than his years.

"It's not that. I mean, it did surprise me a little because I didn't think that's what we were doing. And yes, now you say it, I guess it made it obvious that we had different ideas about where this was going. I'm sorry."

His lip curls in an unflattering sneer, and he pushes his cup away from him. "So, what? I was just a fling?"

"No, I wouldn't say that. I value what we had. You were there for me at a time that I needed you, and I'm grateful."

"Grateful?" He sneers some more. I don't like how it contorts his face.

"Sorry, I'm not explaining this very well." I grasp my cup and take a sip to stall for time. Is there any way to break up with someone that doesn't make you sound like a douche?

"Is there someone else?"

"There is someone that I have feelings for." I place my cup down and fidget with my napkin. "I knew him before we got together. He was out of town but he's back, and the truth is, I want to see what we can have." I peek a look at him, and don't like what I see.

"Is that what you do then? Let men drop you and pick you up when they feel like it?"

It feels like a slap. "Nice to know what you think of me." I'm chagrined that it sounds more like a grumble than a direct challenge.

"Well, I messaged you and we picked up where we left off. Now he's back and you go running?"

"Is that what you think happened?" I have my mojo back. "You think I was sitting around waiting for you to come back? Maybe you just contacted me when it was convenient for me."

"There's the word – convenient. That's all I am, right?" He leans forward some more, and I fear we're starting to draw attention. Even the kid with the toy-throwing habit is looking at us.

My voice is low, but it seethes. "One minute you're using me, now I'm using you? Pick an argument, Mike."

"Well, excuse me for being a bit put out that you're dumping me so can try again with an ex that left you. That really says a lot about how little you feel for me."

"Please don't take it like that, Mike. It's not really about you." I regret the words as soon as they're out of my mouth. Why haven't I thought more about what I want to say? "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way that it sounded."

"Yes, you did. At least own it." His eyes challenge, but they're also glazed.

"You're right. I am sorry, though." His brows are scrunched up in a frown now, but he's lost some of his fire, and the set of his jaw belies his hurt. I hope it's just his ego that is bruised and not anything deeper. I really am sorry to have put that expression there.

I realize that I was wrong to have ever been with Mike. He's too young and so completely wrong for me. I was always too hung up on Edward, and I certainly wasn't ready for anything serious. It was destined to end this way. What a car-crash. Maybe I am like Renee.

"You know he's probably going to hurt you again. They say never go back."

"I know what they say." He has a point. I've thought it myself. But I can't deny what I feel, and I'm going for broke. "Call it a leap of faith." I grab my purse, getting ready to leave.

"But you don't need to find out what we could be?" His eyes search mine.

I hold his gaze. I owe him that. "I had a lot of fun, and maybe we could have been happy, who knows? But I have to follow my heart."

"You're in love with him?"

I don't answer.

"And he left you? Now what?" He shrugs exaggeratedly. "He's back and you're running to him? You surprise me." His stare is level and I try to match it.

"I'm surprising myself."

There is little else to say, and I leave. It's all over startlingly quickly. I have a sinking feeling in my stomach as I walk to the car. Some of what Mike said rings true, and I worry about it myself. Am I just setting myself up for failure? If he were to leave me again, I'm not sure I would cope. I feel like I'm on a knife edge and whichever way I fall, I'll be hurt.

Edward is there when I get in, and I struggle to meet his eye. Stella is a convenient distraction, and I pet her a while.

"I'll go get changed," I say without looking at him, and head upstairs.

I loiter in my room and call my mom. My sadness flows through me as we talk. I'm not exactly sure why I am so sad. I didn't think that I was very invested in Mike.

"Sweetie, you have so much going on right now it's no wonder you're emotional. You're considering a relationship with someone who hurt you; you have a madman stalking you, and now you've broken off a relationship that made you feel better for a time. It's normal to feel conflicted." There is a swelling of love for my mom in my chest.

"But do you think I'm upset because I'm making the wrong decision?" I lie back on the bed and kick my shoes off.

"I don't know. Sometimes we're just sad. Just because you want to be with Edward, it doesn't mean that you can't be sad about ending things with Mike."

"It doesn't make much sense though, does it?" I roll over and prop myself up on my elbows.

"Sometimes things don't. I've learned that as I've gotten older."

I chuckle without humor. "I thought you were supposed to get wise?"

She laughs. "Sometimes wisdom is accepting things as they are." Her words remind me of Peter's in the park and my stomach tightens. I hear jangling pans in the background and suspect she's making dinner.

"What if I'm making a huge mistake, Mom? He's back but what if he leaves again, and I'm left with nothing?" My voice quavers near the end.

"It makes sense for you to be afraid. It's not been great seeing you unhappy recently. If you think he can bring you happiness, then it's worth a shot isn't it?"

"But he brought me the sadness, too." I swallow at the lump in my throat.

"Love is a double-edged sword." I hear some more clanging in the background. "You don't have to make sense of everything. I know it's in your nature to want to understand things. Go with your heart, Bella. Have your eyes open, be smart, and go with it."

I feel a bit raw as I head downstairs, but I don't want to delay it any longer. Edward is in the garden with Stella. They're rough-housing, and it's fun to watch.

"Hey, Bella." He sounds casual, but his eyes search my face and note my crossed arms. I let them drop to my sides. "We're just going for a walk."

"Can I come?"

He looks surprised. "I'd like that."

I want the exercise, and I want to enjoy the summer weather. I will feel safe with Edward and Stella. We talk about our work days on the way to the park. The sun is warm on my skin, and I start to feel more like myself.

Edward lets Stella off the lead as we enter the park gates. "There you go," he says to her, and she shoots off for a run on the grass.

He turns to me and says, "She's much better off the lead these days." He has a cheeky little grin on his face, and I think of that day that Stella knocked me over. It was the day Edward and I met properly. Before that, he was the unattainable Adonis in the park, appreciated for no more than his handsome looks. I had no idea of the kindness in him. No inkling of the warmth of his heart, or the astuteness of his mind.

"I guess we have a lot to thank her for," I say.

"I guess we do." There is a twinkle in his eye, but that frown line is there, too. I smooth it over with my finger, and I feel some of the tension leave him.

"What's this about?" I ask.

"I'm just a little worried about you."

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" The frown line is back, and his eyes tighten as he looks at me searchingly.

"Not remotely. I'm sad, and I'm afraid." Tears fill my eyes, but I smile and fight them off. "It's been a pretty shitty day, but it happens, and we move forward. I wanted to get out and enjoy the sun with you."

"I was surprised you wanted to come. I thought that you'd want some space."

"Me, too. I don't know why I'm so sad." I feel it all through my body, and can't hide the slump in my mood any more than the slump in my shoulders. It feels wrong to burden Edward with it, though.

"You have a lot going on." He watches Stella in the distance as we walk towards the woods.

My smile is watery, but there. "That's what my mom said."

"Are you sad about Mike?" The question surprises me and I look at him quickly. His expression is surprisingly blank, but his eyes are guarded. He seems older somehow, and I think that it has cost him to ask.

"Surely, you don't want to talk about this?" There is a sinking feeling in my stomach, and I'm not sure who I feel like I'd be betraying; Mike or Edward.

"I always want to talk with you." His insightful eyes see too much.

"I just feel a little deflated, and I know that seems stupid." I shrug, and look off into the distance. The sun has started to set and it casts pretty colors in the sky.

"How so?" he asks, his eyes tracking Stella in the distance.

"Well, I think that breaking up with Mike was the right thing to do. So, why am I sad?"

He looks back at me as he says, "Do you want my opinion?"

I nod, but don't hold his gaze. I turn as if to admire the scenery. It is something to behold, but my eyes don't really see it in this moment. I am eaten by doubt.

"He must have been a good guy if you were with him, and you must have liked him. You're a good person, and you don't like to let people down. I would wager that's why you feel sad."

Stella runs back to us with a stick in her mouth. Edward grapples with her a moment, and then throws the stick. She goes bounding after it. She disturbs the freshly mown grass and the scent wafts up around us.

"And you really do have a lot going on; the stress of the Peter situation is no little thing."

"I hadn't realized how much it was getting to me until I fell asleep in peace in your place that first night."

He puts his arm around me. "I'm glad that I could help. And look, I don't want you to think that you have to rush into anything with me. I'm really glad that I've gotten to spend some time with you these last few days, but I really mean it when I say you can stay at the house with no strings attached. Don't feel obligated to hang out with me."

"I don't. I wanted to come." Then a thought occurs to me. "Do _you_ want some space?"

"God, no. Space from you is the last thing that I want." He squeezes my arm before letting me go.

We walk towards the beach, and stand on the bridge to take in the view. Stella runs into the woods and comes back with the stick for Edward to throw again.

"I should tell you, though – I'm scared."

"Of Peter?"

"Of you."

His face crumples. "I'm sorry, Bella. More than I can ever say. I was trying to do the right thing, and I know now just how idiotic I was. My lack of brain cells aside, never doubt that I wanted you."

I nod. "I wasn't looking for an apology, but it would be good to understand. Are you here because things were bad there, and you're running away?" He winces. My words wound him in a way I didn't intend. I just want to know the truth.

"I won't lie to you. Things were bad; hateful at worst, bearable at best." His hands grip the railing of the bridge, and his knuckles turn white with the pressure. "I couldn't force feelings that weren't there. She could tell I didn't want her, and to her that's the worst sin in the word. She was vile about it."

He turns now so that he's leaning against the railing and can see me better. "It was being there again that made me see what an awful environment that is for a child, much worse than spending time with us both independently. That's when I started to see how foolish I had been, and it was freeing – I started thinking about what I had left behind, about a different future that I could forge with you – a different way."

He crosses his arms, but looks more like he's hugging himself. "But most of all, I'm sorry about what I did to us. It's unforgivable, I know, so I'm not asking for that; only that you'll let me try to make it up to you. I'll give you anything you want." He swallows. "I'm scared too, you know."

"You are?"

"I mean it when I say I don't want to pressure you. But honestly, I have no idea what I'll do if you tell me to go away." His eyes are fierce, and it hides some of his pain. But the tightness in his face belies his composure. He is fighting strong emotion, just like I am.

I cross my arms and squeeze myself tight. "I'm scared of the power you have over me. You've been back a few days and I already feel like you've been here forever."

His eyes soften, though pain still creases his brow. "I always want to know how you feel. And you're not the only one; you have power over me, too. I know it might not seem that way, and I know I was gone a long time, but there wasn't a moment when didn't want you."

It's so hard to talk about this; airing my fears to the man who can make them real. But if we're going to do this, I have to be honest. I hug myself even tighter and take a deep breath. "I'm afraid that you'll go away again. And then where will I be? " I meet his eyes briefly, but can't hold his gaze. I look out into the distance, but it's all a blur. "Will you change your mind when the baby is born?"

He reaches out to me quickly. "No, no, I promise you I'll be there for you. I'm all in, and it's you I want. I got things so wrong before." He talks quickly and caresses my face almost frantically. "I was thinking about how I felt about being adopted, and old fashioned ideas about what a family should be. I was wrong. I know that now. It's no excuse for how I treated you – I closed you out, and it was like closing out my own heart. I've learned my lesson."

"I don't know what to say."

He kisses my brow. "Don't say anything. I know you're afraid to believe in me, and I understand that. I'll show you. I'll be here, and you'll learn how to trust me again."

"I'm sorry."

"Shh, love. You have nothing to be sorry for." He pulls me into his embrace, and there it is – that spark of electricity between us – it ripples between us, simmering with longing and unfulfilled desire. I don't think a simple hug has ever meant so much. He holds me tight, and it gives me strength.

We're walking towards the exit of the park on our way home when he says, "I have a family thing on Saturday. We'll have dinner and hang out for a while. No pressure, but you're welcome to come if you'd like to. Don't answer now; think about it."

"Thanks for inviting me."

"My mom is desperate to meet you." He rolls his eyes, but I can see his affection for his mother.

"Really?"

"Yeah. She wanted to meet you before. Now she's getting on my nerves about it." He smiles good-naturedly, though.

"Are you close?"

"Yeah, my dad, too." Stella tugs on her lead now that we're back out on the street. She's always wanting to sniff this and that, including the odd passerby. She is a fluffy force of nature.

"Tell me about them?" I want to know more about him. Somehow I feel that the more I know, the more links there will be between us.

"I think I told you that my dad is an architect?" I nod. "He still works, but he mostly writes books these days. Mom loves it because it means he's at home more often. He likes to fish."

"My dad, too. He has 'man time' out on the boat with Seth." I motion air quotes with my fingers, then duck quickly to the side so that we can pass a group of teenagers walking the opposite way on the sidewalk.

"So they'll have something to talk about, then." He winces, and I'm not sure why. He quickly continues, "My mom is semi-retired, she used to be a librarian. She writes children's books now."

"Wow, that's really cool."

"She's really looking forward to having a child in the family again. Says she'll have more inspiration." He takes a quick glance at me and looks a little guilty.

"Please don't think you can't talk about your son with me. Of course your mom is excited. He'll be her first grandchild, right?"

"Yeah." He smiles, but worry lines his forehead.

"How do you think you'll cope, traveling back and forth?" This is something that worries me. It is a hell of a commitment. How long can someone keep up that level of travel?

"I'll make it work. I have to." He pulls Stella closer as she tries to poke her head into a passing buggy.

"I don't like to think of you sacrificing so much for me." I watch my feet as I say this. He will be giving up so much time with his son. I don't want to be the cause of that. But what alternative is there? I can't see myself living in L.A. – it's not even somewhere I have wanted to visit, and is so far away from my family. It's only a couple of hours on the plane, but it's more complicated than jumping in the car for a few hours.

"Trust me; it's for me, too," he says emphatically and holds out his hand for me to take. I reach out to him, placing my hand in his. His warm hand wraps around mine, and gives it a squeeze. There is so much comfort in holding his hand; such potential in a small gesture.

"And my family is here," he continues, "and I have work commitments. I mean, I'm not stupid – I know it's not going to be easy." He pauses as he navigates Stella around a double stroller. It seems that she loves kids and doesn't want to pass by without a peek. She is so naturally curious.

"I'll probably spend at least a couple of weeks in L.A. when he's born. Then alternate weeks or something. Stella's the tricky part. I think I'm going to have to leave her here with Rose. It's one thing driving up here now and then, but I can't do it all the time. I think I'll fly, and I'm not sure how she'd cope with that. I don't think it would be fair to her." He pets her head with his free hand, and wiggles her ears. I would swear that she smiles sometimes.

I rub his arm, trying to comfort him. He won't like being apart from Stella. He won't like being apart from his son. Is this the right thing to do? It's such a lot of travel and expense to maintain two homes, and so much compromise, and all on his side. "Edward, how long have you thought about this? Are you sure that it's the right thing to do?"

"I have barely thought about anything else. I spent years trying to make Tanya happy – it's not within my power. I realized last year when I left that I didn't want to make her happy. But when I found out she was pregnant, I lost myself a bit." He shakes his head in self-admonition. "I don't want to exist as a proxy. I want to choose a life that makes me happy not just through selfishness, and not just because I need you so badly, but also because being a happy parent is important for your kids."

He slows and turns to me. The breeze catches my hair and it blows into my face. Edward's hands are there before mine have moved. He parts my hair and brushes it back from my face. He's so close that I can smell him.

"I want a true partnership where we can both make each other happy. I know I might be punching above my weight here, especially after how I behaved. I'm trying to reach for my own happiness, and I hope that it might be yours too." His gaze is intense, and it makes my heart beat faster in my chest. His eyes soften, and he takes my hand again as we walk. "You've had a tough day. We don't have to talk about this now."

He swings our entwined hands between us, and I catch a glimpse of playful Edward. "Tell me about something that really annoys you?"

"You mean aside from your catastrophically loud snoring?" I flick my hair behind my shoulder.

He blanches. "I don't snore," he says with conviction, but uncertainty creeps in as he asks, "Do I?"

I chuckle. "Maybe it was Stella… It was as loud as a freight train. I barely slept last night." His face drops, and I can't keep it up. "I'm kidding. I didn't hear a peep. I've been sleeping really well actually."

"You are incorrigible!" He squeezes my hand.

"Um, okay then, what do I find annoying?" I turn to look at him with a big smile on my face. "People who call me incorrigible."

"Stop it!" But he's grinning and still swaying our hands between us.

"So a real one – I need to think. Do you have any?"

"I would say my biggest is when people say 'I don't mean to be rude, but' and proceed immediately to be rude."

"Good one," I agree, nodding.

"Oh, I have one – sticky labels that don't come off in one go."

He looks at me puzzled. "Sticky labels?"

"Yeah like on new shoes, or on books – books are the worst, especially when they say easy peel!"

"Oh, I get what you mean."

I'm on a roll now. "I have another – when people say pacific instead of specific. Urgh!"

He laughs. "I'll have to make sure I get that right."

The tension that had grown between us floats away, and it's nice just to be. Just being with Edward is something else. There is a peace to it that is surprising given the chemistry between us.

I pull on his hand and stop when we reach the end of the road. If we turn left, we'll head back to Edward's, but I want to go to my place. "Can we stop by my place? I want to get my computer."

"Yeah, sure. Or you can use mine if it's easier?"

"Thanks. I want to book some tickets for my trip with Renee." I have my work laptop in the car, but I don't like to use it for personal things.

We turn towards Edward's house. "Oh yeah, Nashville right? What are you going to do there?"

"Well, my mom is pretty into country music so I'm going to get us tickets to the Grand Ole Opry. It's a big deal in country music. It started as a live radio show."

His face looks skeptical. "Do you like country music?"

"Some, not hugely. I enjoy live music, though. I enjoy live performances that I wouldn't think of listening to at home, or in the car."

The human traffic thins somewhat as we head further north and onto more residential streets. We can walk hand-in-hand and double-file without ducking this way and that. Edward eases our pace, and Stella doesn't object now that she's had a good run in the park. In fact, she keeps stopping to sniff at the ground, a neighbor's gate, or anything else that catches her attention.

"I know what you mean. I know a few places we could go sometime, if you'd like to?"

"That would be cool." His hand feels so very warm encompassing mine. I feel like a teenager, walking holding Edward's hand.

"Maybe something on Friday? Are you free? We could go on a date?"

"Oh shit. I was supposed to go with Mike to this big work party on Friday. I even bought a new dress. I guess I'm free now."

"I can pick someplace fancy if you want to dress up?"

"It's not that. I didn't really want to go. I feel bad though, letting him down. You were right about that." Perhaps he knows me better than I know myself.

Stella pulls to the left and Edward stops her before she wanders onto someone else's drive.

"You should give yourself a break, you know. You're entitled to choose how you want to live your life." He gives my hand a squeeze.

"I know. I just feel shitty. Sorry, I shouldn't be talking about this with you."

"You can talk about anything with me. I think we should make a deal." He pulls me to a halt. "We can always talk about anything, and we'll listen and support each other no matter what."

"Okay." Stella looks up at us, her gaze ping-ponging between us. She lets out a bark, and we start walking again.

"I'd much rather you talk about something that's troubling you. I'd hate for you to think you couldn't talk about something with me," he says as he takes out the fob thingy to open his electric gates just ahead of us. He lets Stella off the leash and she bolts inside.

"Then it's a deal. I feel like we should seal it somehow. Secret handshake?" I walk through the gate and Edward closes it behind us.

He laughs loud and it's music to my ears. "Do you want to keep things simple this week?"

He's caught up to me quickly, and is so close I have to tilt my head up to see his face. "How do you mean?" I ask.

"Do you want to keep things platonic while you think things through?" I can feel his breath on my face, and he is so near that it feels anything but platonic. I feel very conscious that we are no longer in public.

I search his eyes, and I want to match his honesty. "I'm not sure we can be platonic. Even when we're having a normal conversation there feels like there is more between us."

"That's because there _is_ more between us." His eyes spark with intensity, and the green is so dazzling in this light that my heartbeat spikes. "So, shall we keep things light and seal our deal with a handshake, or…" His eyes flicker to my lips, almost unconsciously. "Shall we seal it with a kiss?"

My heart hammers in my chest. I want to be sensible. I want to take it slow, but I also want to feel his lips on mine. It's like time slows down as I make this decision, and I am strangely conscious of our surroundings. The light breeze catches the hem of my dress and the wisps of hair loose around my face. I see it catch the tips of Edward's hair and tease his shining locks this way and that. The air is fresh, and I can taste the salt of the Sound on my lips. Though I have my back to the sun, I can tell that it's dipping towards the horizon. It casts my shadow over Edward, and I can see the amber glow of it in his eyes. He has such beautiful eyes; they're expressive and open.

I raise my heels off the ground and close the distance between us. It's hard to describe the feeling. My words aren't enough. It's like I've been swimming underwater for much too long, and I've burst through the surface to take that first life-sustaining breath; it's just what I need, but it hurts, too. My insides are raw, and the craving that I've felt for him is gnawing.

The relief of kissing him is powerful. His lips are soft on mine, but firm. His arms encompass me. His fingers tangle in my hair at the base of my neck, and he rubs that sensitive spot he found behind my ear. I didn't even know it was there before him. He kisses me like he is savoring every moment.

I tug his hair, and he groans. I love it when he does that. He deepens the kiss, but we're interrupted by the piercing sound of my cell ringing. He breaks the kiss, and rests his forehead on mine as he catches his breath.

"It's Jenks. I better take it." His forehead bobs against mine as he nods.

"Miss. Swan. Bella?" He corrects himself. "Can I please confirm your whereabouts?"

I blush a little, and sensor the kissing. "I've just come back to Edward's – where I'm staying."

"Are you alone?" His tone is his usual business-like self, but there is an edge that has the hairs on the back of my neck standing on edge.

"No, I'm with a friend." I feel guilty as I say it. Edward is so much more than that. He watches me intently, not missing my alarm. He runs his hand up and down my arm.

"Mr. Cullen?"

"Yes. Can I ask why you're asking?" What is going on?

"White is outside your apartment, ma'am. I wanted to confirm that you hadn't gone back to pick anything up."

I let out a large sigh. My God, I might have walked straight into him had I gone to get my laptop! I clear my throat. "Wait, how do you know his name?"

"Your father supplied it. I've done a full work up, and he checks out." I find this alarming rather than comforting. What is a 'full work up'? "I'll be in touch tomorrow with the full spec of the work to be done on the apartment." He ends the call.

"Bella, what is it?" Edward asks. His frown is in full force and his cheeks are flushed, whereas I'm sure the color has drained from my face.

"Peter is outside my apartment. They just wanted to check I wasn't there." I stare down blankly at my phone as the light dims. This is unreal. I take a moment to gather myself, and then put the phone back in my pocket.

When I look back up at Edward, I can tell that he's livid, but he doesn't voice it. "Let's go inside." He checks the gate again, and grasps my hand urgently, and we walk at a brisk pace to the house.

"I'm sorry," I say as he pours me a glass of water from the fridge. "It seems like we're both a little complicated at the moment."

"Don't be sorry. This Peter situation is not on you. It's on him, that piece of –" He cuts himself off and takes a deep breath through his nose. "I am so tempted to just go round there and sort this out right now."

"Edward! You can't do that! You'll wind up in jail." The thought has my heart in overdrive.

"It's still tempting." I can see from his bearing that he can handle himself in a fight. He is tall and muscular, and he holds himself with the confidence of an able man. He must work out to sustain that physique. I haven't seen him work out, though.

I am quiet as he double checks the door and the alarm. I don't miss that he hasn't unlocked the back door for Stella to wander in and out freely as she usually does.

I want to break the tension, so I think it's time to jump in head first. "You know you asked about seeing your family on Saturday?" He nods distractedly. "I'd like to come."

This stops him in his tracks, and he looks up at me with the beginnings of a smile on his face. The smile in his eyes however, is full. "You would?"

"Yes. I'd like to meet your family."

His smile is genuine, and his eyes lose the dangerous edge that had creeped into them. "I would really that. My mom will be overjoyed." He walks around the kitchen island and gives me a hug. It feels so right to be wrapped in his arms.

It's my turn to take a deep breath. Who needs a comfort zone anyway? It never did me any good. "I want to meet them as your girlfriend."

He breaks the hug and holds me away from him so he can see my face. "You're sure?"

I nod. "Yes, I am."

His smile is so wide I don't know how it doesn't crack his face. He pulls me back into a tight hug. "Thank you," he whispers in my ear. "Oh God, Bella." He kisses me all over. Quick pecks of satisfaction that even in their innocence warm the embers deep in my belly.

 **Author's Note**

 **Well, what do you think? Thanks for reading!**

 **Big thanks to Songster for her guidance and time on this story.**

 **Rhian xx**


	24. Chapter 24

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 24**

Happy Edward is even nicer than regular Edward. Since we made 'us' official, he has this joy that radiates out of him. I bask in it. I feel the same way. I have a real-life, grown-up boyfriend. Life feels full of promise. Boyfriend seems a little young a phrase, really. Partner sounds too stuffy. What are we? A couple? I like the sound of that; we are a pair.

I sit at a table in the bar of the hotel waiting for Edward as I contemplate this. We have settled quickly into a light routine, and I feel more at home at Edward's than I would have thought possible. This week has been wonderful, as strange as that may sound. The pleasure of being with Edward has outshone the reason that I'm staying with him. The Peter stuff is terrifying, but it almost feels like it's happening to someone else. I feel safe with Edward in his fortress. Peter clearly has a score to settle, and his intentions worry me, but he's just one man.

The thought reminds me of the trials of this week. Jenks called yesterday with an update on the Peter situation. I was glad to discover that he isn't always lurking in the shadows. I am trying to shake the compulsion to look over my shoulder all the time, and actively resist the reflex right now.

Jenks and his team have established that Peter knows my patterns, made obvious by his appearance at the park and at my apartment. But he's pretty busy living his own life the vast majority of the time. He has a full-time job as a delivery guy for some company I don't remember the name of, and works shifts that are often unsociable.

To sum it up, Jenks warned me to be cautious, was glad that I was living elsewhere, but didn't foresee any immediate danger. The meeting in the park was meant to scare me, and because that's what he wants, I am more determined not to be. He explained that they're compiling surveillance evidence to support an application for a harassment order, which is essentially a restraining order and has criminal consequences for contempt of court if breached. He asked if he wanted me to submit this to the court and I agreed. Maybe that will get him to leave me alone.

The level of surveillance from Jenks and his team is worrying me, though. From what he said, they've been keeping a closer eye on Peter than I had expected. He sent thought a quote for the security work at my apartment yesterday, and my eyes practically bulged out of my head. I was borrowing Edward's computer in his study as he was working on some drawings.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed.

"What is it?" he asked with a worried tone.

"Oh, don't worry," I said quickly. "I was just shocked by this quote. I need to give my Dad a call. God knows what sort of bill Jenks is racking up for the surveillance."

I found myself leaning into the screen to follow the lines of the table to see the breakdown of costs. It's a worrying amount of money, even with my recent pay raise. The alarm and the security paraphernalia was expensive, but is a one off cost. What worried me most was the labor cost for installing it; labor costs that must be pilling up for the surveillance work.

"I'm just going to make a call. Sorry to disturb you." I made my way to my room to make the call in private. Dad was belligerent and hell-bent on having Jenks on board for as long as it takes. There was no persuading him.

"Dad, be reasonable. I dread to think what his bill is going to be and you don't have that kind of money. You better not blow your savings on this."

"Never you mind where it's coming from. You're in danger. I can't sort this myself right now and that's probably for the best, considering. Jenks is a trained professional and has the emotional distance needed to see this through within the law."

"It's going to cost a fortune! The security alone could bankrupt me. What if this goes on? Do you know he has a lawyer now?" I pace as we talk.

"I do. Jenks is good at his job, and there has been a development. He's in touch with the police department directly about Peter."

"What do you mean a development? He didn't say anything about a development." I stopped my movement, and sat on the bed. I'd been pacing in a small circle, and I felt a little dizzy.

"It doesn't concern you, Bella. It's something in his past. I can't discuss it."

"Seriously? You're going to tell me there's a development and not tell me what it is?" My voice was high-pitched and scratchy.

"Just listen when I tell you he's a dangerous man and not to go back to your apartment until further notice. Don't be alone for that matter." He used his policeman-voice. I hate it when he uses his policeman-voice on me.

"Dad!" I regressed to my teenage self, I'm somewhat ashamed to admit. "You _have_ to tell me! Jenks said he didn't perceive an immediate threat."

"Look, let's talk about it when we know more. It's just a line of inquiry right now."

"And who is the 'we' in this scenario? Because I thought I was the one being stalked." My anger swelled inside of me like a feral beast. It was a good thing that Dad ended the call because I could have breathed fire at that point, I am sure.

I took some deep breaths and went out into the garden to calm down. I mean seriously, I'm in danger but don't get to know what danger because I'm a mere victim, and not an ex-cop? No, I am not a victim. I refuse to be a victim.

Stella joined me and she was the perfect companion right then. Petting her centered me, and helped me relax. The summer sun warmed me, and I could smell the honeysuckle that grows up a trellis in the garden.

"Do you want some lemonade?" Edward called from the doorway.

"That would be great, thanks."

He handed me a tall glass of lemonade with ice and a lemon wedge. The ice cubes jangled inside the glass with the movement, and there was already condensation on the outside of the glass in the humid evening air. I took a sip, and it was heaven. "Wow. Is this homemade?"

"It is, but I can't claim it. My mom came over with it today." He looked a little sheepish. "She's worried that I'm not feeding you right, so she's filled my fridge with her food."

I laughed. "Aw, that's nice of her."

"I know, I know; I'm a thirty-four-year-old man whose mother brings around food." A wry smile stretched across his face. "It's more for your benefit than mine, I think. She's looking forward to seeing you this weekend."

"Me too," I said instinctively, but I really am looking forward to meeting his family. "Wait, you're thirty-four now?"

"My birthday was in June."

I was sadder than the situation warranted. He must have read it on my face because he wrapped an arm around me and kissed my cheek. "Come sit with me."

We relaxed a while and the tension from earlier seeped out of me, but it didn't last long.

"Can we talk about the security stuff?" he asked, wariness in his eyes.

"What is there to talk about?" My eyes trailed a honey bee buzzing in and out of the honeysuckle flowers.

"Well, I don't want you to worry about the cost. If it needs to be done, get it done. I can help."

I looked at him then, and shook my head decidedly. "No, you're already doing too much." He's housing me and feeding me – I can't take more. "I should be paying you rent."

"No, you shouldn't. I want you here. The money is no big deal. I'd be paying anyway." He shrugged like only someone with plenty of money can. "Let me help."

"It's a big deal to me," I said pointedly, feeling the serenity of the garden start to slip away.

"And your safety is a big deal to me." His tone matched mine, but then turned more conciliatory. "You're not alone in this, Bella. If we're going to be a couple, I want to talk about this properly."

He had a point, but I didn't want to argue it about it right then, so I kept my silence. I was grateful for the distraction when Stella started barking at a butterfly at the end of the garden, and chasing it and snapping with her teeth. Edward called her over to distract her, and the butterfly made its escape.

"Or just stay here until the situation is over?" He said, stroking my arm.

"It might never be really over." My pride smarted.

He shrugged. "It's an open invitation. I'm not counting days. I like having you here. Haven't you enjoyed this week?"

"I have." By this point, I was admitting it against my will.

"And like I said, I'm not even going to be here full time, so you can have the roam of the place." He gestured with his hands at our surroundings.

"But if Peter catches on that I'm not living at my apartment, he's going to follow me home from work one day."

"This Jenks seems to know what he's doing." He drew circles on my skin. It was both calming and exciting, in different ways. I despised both in that moment. I didn't want to be calm, or turned on. I shrugged him off, displeased with the effect that he had on me.

"But he can't keep an eye on him forever. I don't see how this is going to end." I heard the note of desperation in my own voice.

"Hey, hey." He stood and scooched down in front of me, hands on my knees. "It's going to be okay. Jenks'll be around as long as he needs to be. Do you want me to give them a call, get an idea of what their plans are?"

"I know you're trying to help, Edward, but I really don't need a man to make a phone call for me." I crossed my arms and sat back in my seat, moving away from him; the peace of the garden long gone.

He looked a little hurt. "I didn't mean you weren't capable. I know that you are…"

"I'm so sick of not being able to do what I want to do." I stood and dragged my hands through my hair.

"It sucks. I know."

"Do you?"

His eyes shut down—their usual openness fading—and his face was clear of expression. I instantly regretted closing him out. It was just that for a moment I, quite irrationally, felt like I was surrounded by men trying to make decisions for me.

"Bella, you have a lot of valid reasons to be angry at me. If that's what's going on here, if you're angry at me for leaving, then let me have it both barrels. Say what you want to say. But don't be angry at me for wanting to take care of you because that's how it's going to be from now on. I will always want to take care of you." His eyes were fierce and brooked no argument.

My stomach clenched and my eyes watered. How quickly he can get past my barriers. I sat back down. "I'm sorry. I don't want to talk about it right now." I was out of control, and I hated the feeling. There were too many feelings coursing inside of me. He was right of course; I am mad at him. I'm mad at him for leaving, for hurting me, and most of all for the fact that it was all for nothing.

"Will you let me help financially?" I looked up at him, and I could do nothing but nod. "Okay. We'll talk about the other stuff when you're ready. Do you want some space?"

I shrugged, barely holding my tears at bay. His face softened and he sat down next to me. He reached for my hand and smoothed his thumb over the back of it. It was my undoing. I let it all out. I don't know how long I cried for, and half the time, I wasn't even sure what I was crying for. Was it about Peter? Was it about Edward? Or was it just about me feeling overwhelmed by everything? Edward held me close and smoothed my hair. He whispered, "You don't have to be strong all of the time. I can be strong for you, too."

I have decided to take Edward up on his offer, and I will stay with him until there is some kind of conclusion to the Peter situation. The reality is that I feel safer there, and I'm not in a hurry to get back to my apartment. It is now tainted somehow, and no longer the haven it used to be.

So, tonight, I am taking a break from the madness. I am wearing my new dress, and I am determined to have fun. My dress is simple in design, but made of a rich cobalt blue silk. I feel glamorous and excited as I wait at a table for Edward to come back from the bathroom. I take a look at the cocktail menu as I wait.

The club is Art Deco style with a 1920's feel. A man plays a shiny black, baby-grand piano in the corner. I recognize the tune but can't name it. We've come to see a jazz band play this evening. It's our first date since Edward has been back. I have butterflies in my stomach—I realize that this is stupid, considering that I'm living with him—but they flutter all the same.

I watch Edward walk to our table. He is a knockout in a slim fitting dark grey suit and white shirt. He wears no tie and the top two buttons of his shirt are open. I can't believe that he's mine.

"Hello handsome," I say playfully as he takes his seat. I can't keep the smile from my lips. We need to talk more of course, but tonight is about having fun. I've also put on my best underwear under this dress, and I have no intention of letting it go to waste.

He grins. I notice that his smile is a little crooked. It's broader to the left, and a small dimple appears to the right. I caress the dimple with my finger.

"Hm, are you trying to distract me?" His eyes search mine and he bites his lip, somewhat subconsciously, I think.

"Distract you from what?"

He shifts a little in his seat, and I follow his meaning. "Oh, you like that?"

He holds my gaze intently. "Yes, I like that." We're interrupted by the waiter, and we order some drinks.

"Do you like me calling you handsome, or was it stroking your dimple?" I ask.

He chuckles. "You make that sound dirty."

I shrug, feigning innocence.

"I like both, but I was referring to the way you were looking at me. It makes me want to take you home."

"You have to woo me first, Mr. Cullen."

"Oh, I plan to do just that." He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. He leaves his hand there, and the warmth of him seeps into me. I feel that electric pulse between us. He circles his fingertip in _that_ place behind my ear. My stomach clenches, and I bite my lip. He's so much better at this than I am. His grin—though still crooked, I note—is undeniably smug. I mean to tease him about it, but the host walks on stage, and the small crowd quiets.

"Welcome, welcome beautiful people. Thank you for joining us for the Halcyon Evening at the Belltown." He wears a black double-breasted suit jacket with ease. I can see the showman in him. "Tonight we pay tribute to the late great Billie Holiday. Her distinctive style and rhythm influenced jazz of the period and along with her iconic voice, her talent persists today."

He introduces the band and they open with "When You're Smiling". I give my attention to the performance, but I am ever conscious of the thrum between Edward and I, and the warmth of him next to me. I am surprised by how many Billie Holiday songs I recognize. The band is talented and they alternate taking the lead vocals. The bass player has a rich, deep voice as he sings a song I don't know.

The cocktails go to my head, and I feel daring. I stroke Edward's leg under the table. I want to connect with him. I want to touch him. I try to suppress my grin when he shifts in his seat, but my lips twitch.

"That look should be illegal," he whispers in my ear. "I look forward to getting to see it when you're naked." He's definitely better at this than I am.

I recognize "Summertime" and my body picks up the rhythm. Edward takes my hand and leads me to the dancefloor where a few couples dance to the music. I am worried that I won't be able to dance to the slow rhythm, but Edward knows what he's doing. He leads me effortlessly around the floor. I've never danced like this before.

The song changes, and Edward slows our motion. It feels incredibly intimate. "This song is so beautiful," I say. It's so full of feeling, and I am swept into the emotion of it.

"I'll find you in the morning sun  
And when the night is new,  
I'll be looking at the moon,  
But I'll be seeing you."

Edward kisses my lips briefly, and continues to lead me through the dance. I think it might be the most romantic moment of my life. Something swells inside me. I feel goosebumps all over. Edward's arm is firm at my back, pulling me into him as we dance. I have one hand on his shoulder, and I feel the raw muscle beneath my palm even through his suit jacket. He holds my other hand out, like real dancers do, and his thumb strokes the back of it in rhythm to the music. I can smell his fresh cologne and something decidedly Edward. Maybe he's right about people having their own scent; his calls to me. It smells like home, quite literally. I breathe him in in large lungfuls.

The song comes to a close and he kisses me on the cheek. He murmurs in my ear, "You're so beautiful. I want to take you home right now."

We've stopped dancing and I lean back so I can see his face. I see a wonder that mirrors my own. "Yes," I say.

"Pardon?" He has that crooked smile on his face.

"Take me home."

His eyes darken and his smile fades. He doesn't answer, just grasps my hand and leads me away. I barely have time to grab my purse. He throws some bills on the table. I laugh as he bundles me into a cab. "You're keen!"

"You have no idea." I can see his mind working behind his eyes. His gaze is both intense and speculative.

"Are you thinking about what you want to do to me?"

He makes a deep noise that makes my insides clench. He slides closer and puts his arm around me. His thumb trails patterns on my bare shoulder. My skin tingles. He leans in to whisper in my ear, "I have thought about what I want to do to you for a _very_ long time."

"Like what?"

"Hm, well. It's going to be difficult to decide. What do you like?" His eyes challenge me to voice my wants. I don't know how to answer. "You're not choosing now to go shy on me are you?"

I suppose I am. What do I like? That is a very open question. "I'm pretty sure I'll like anything with you."

His eyes pop wide. "Anything? Are you adventurous then?"

"Relatively. You only live once, right?" I bite the inside of my cheek, but fail to suppress my smile. I feel brave.

"How are you even real?" He looks at me askance, his eyebrows cocked high, and his eyes wander over me speculatively.

I laugh. "I could say the same thing. What do _you_ like?"

"You, mostly." He grins suggestively, and his eyebrows bounce up and down like a comedy cartoon character. "But I like a selection of things. I wouldn't want to limit myself."

"Never that," I agree with mock seriousness.

"I think the first time I would like to take you to my bedroom. I want to take off all of your clothes so I can see you in all your glory." His eyes bore into mine, and the intensity of his gaze quickens my breath.

"Hm, lights on, then."

"Definitely."

"Me, too."

"I like that." A muscle twitches in his cheek, and I wonder whether he's biting the inside of it. It is surprisingly sensual.

"I want to see you, too."

"I bet you do." He winks at me. I like this teasing side of him, but it fades quickly as he continues, "Then, I'll lay you on my bed and find out what other little spots you have on that body of yours."

"Spots?" I squeak.

He leans into me and kisses behind my ear in just the right place. I melt into him. "Oh, you mean that kind of spot." I am a little breathless. The goosebumps are back. I reach my hand up and tug lightly on his hair, the way I know will make him moan. "Like this."

"Hm, yeah, you got me there." His head tilts back in pleasure and it's only the fact that we're in a taxi that stops me straddling him and kissing his bared neck.

Thankfully the taxi pulls up outside his house soon after, but the butterflies soar in my stomach. My throat is suddenly dry, despite my eagerness. The anticipation builds as we enter the house. Then Stella charges through the tension effectively with her jubilant jumping and wagging tail. She can't fail to make me laugh.

"Wine?" he asks.

"I'm in." I am so in; in more ways than one.

Edward grabs two glasses from the shelf and a bottle of white from the fridge. He takes his time pouring the wine. I think perhaps he needs time to adjust, too. I want this. I _so_ want this. But I'm also terrified because I have wanted Edward for what feels like a very long time, and I desperately want this to be amazing. The weight of expectation is daunting. I've never felt nervous like this before. Sex has never meant what it would mean with Edward. I have never felt this pull—this compulsion—for another person. I want him in ways I don't even understand yet.

I grasp the stem of the glass, and try for seductive. "So, Mr. Cullen, you're finally going to take me to bed."

His lopsided smile stretches across his face. "Yes, Miss. Swan, I am."

"What are you going to do to me?"

"How many cocktails did you have? Have you forgotten already?" He tilts his head to the side surveying me.

"I want you to tell me again."

"Oh, it's like that is it?" He raises an eyebrow.

I nod.

"I'm going to undress you and take my first look at you naked." There is a devilish gleam in his beautiful green eyes. "Then I am going to kiss and caress you all over until I find those unexpected places that make you shiver."

My body thrills at just the thought.

"Then I'm going to explore the more obvious places. How do you like to be touched, Bella?

"Don't be too gentle. I want to feel you."

He licks his lips, in what I think is an unconscious gesture, but is so damn sexy. I am wet for him, and he hasn't even laid a hand on me. He takes the glass from my hand and places it on the kitchen counter. He wraps one arm around the small of my back and pulls me against him. I can feel him hard against me. He whispers in my ear, "You like it when I tell you what I'm going to do, don't you? I can see how aroused you are."

His lips skim the shell of my ear as he talks, and it sends thrills down my spine. I grasp his upper arms to keep myself steady. His biceps flex under my grip. "I'll add that to the list."

"The list?" I ask absently.

"My mental list of Bella Swan's erogenous zones."

He plants a soft kiss on my cheek, as light as the brush of a butterfly's wing, then another at the corner of my mouth. He winds his hand up my back all the way up to my neck, and his fingers clutch at my hair. He tilts my head to the side as he zeros in on that place behind my ear. I tilt my head back and a sigh escapes me. Edward echoes it. Then his lips are on mine and my hand fists in his hair, tugging just the way he likes. He walks me backwards towards the stairs. He breaks the kiss to say, "Stella stay." A small whimper indicates her displeasure, but she lies down on the ground.

Edward takes my hand and leads the way upstairs. My heels clatter loudly in the quiet of the house. I am glad they cover the loudness of my breathing. He kisses me deeply as we enter his bedroom. His hands are at the zipper at my back, and mine have snaked under his jacket to push it off. He lets go of me briefly so that it drops to the floor with a light thud. There are no words. There are no nerves now.

Edward turns me so that I face the bed and he is behind me. He pulls the silk of my dress down to my waist. He hums appreciatively and nuzzles the back of my neck as he unhooks my bra. He trails his thumbnail right down to my wrists as he slides off my bra.

"I'm going to make your toes curl, Bella."

He peers over my shoulder down at my breasts. I turn, trying to kiss him, and he leans forward so that I can reach his lips. But it's an awkward angle so I turn into him. He groans, and I pull him to me. I can feel how ready he is for me. I press against him and delight in his gasp. I unbutton his shirt as we kiss. It's harder to multitask than I thought it would be, and I laugh, breaking the kiss to get his damn shirt off. He unbuttons his cuffs for me and seems to enjoy my impatience. Shirt off, he pulls me to him tightly and the feel of his skin against mine is heaven. He is warm and surprisingly soft. He sways us slightly and says, "I think I prefer dancing with you this way. Give me a twirl."

He takes one hand and holds it above our heads creating an archway for me to pass under. I laugh, but comply. The skirt of my dress fans out prettily. When I have completed my turn, he holds me away from him, and looks at me appreciatively. "I definitely prefer you this way."

"Pervert," I admonish, but I am smiling.

"Of course! Did I forget to tell you that?" The muscle in his cheek twitches as he stifles a grin.

He pulls me back into his embrace and dips me. It takes me by surprise, and I grasp onto him urgently as I am bent off balance. Edward holds me firmly. I feel completely in his power, and the most surprising thing is that I am perfectly content about that fact. I tilt my chin up so that I can kiss him, and my hand slides to cup his face. It's such a beautiful face. I feel so much affection for this man that it's frightening. His hold becomes more urgent and he stands me back up and walks me back towards the bed.

"Once I have you naked, I might never let you get dressed."

"In that case..." I trail off as I start to put my arms in the sleeves of my dress.

"No way!" He grabs me by the waist, and throws me on the bed.

I squeal at the indignity. "I can't believe that you threw me on the bed!"

He laughs and smirks at me sprawled on his bed half naked, blue silk spilling every which way. "It's where you belong." He looks so damn smug, but I can't even feign anger. I can't help but find his teasing charming. There is probably something wrong with me. He crawls onto the bed with cat-like grace, and climbs on top of me. He plants a trail of kisses down my neck to my breasts. I think Edward might be a breast man. He teases, and bites, and sucks, and I absorb the feeling.

"I do love this blue against your skin. It suits you. But it's time to lose it." I lift my hips so that he can slide the rest of my dress down. "Ta-dah," he says as if he's some sort of magician, and he throws it over his shoulder. He gently skims his hand from my foot to my hip. He prolongs the moment before he reaches inside my panties.

"My god," he says on a groan. I watch his face as he caresses me. It's almost as enjoyable as what his hand is doing to me. His jaw is slack and his eyes scrunch up as he explores me. He is so beautiful. His fingers are quick and he makes me squirm with pleasure. He is demanding and increases his speed.

The orgasm comes quickly; it builds with a speed that takes me by surprise. I convulse with it, curling around his hand, legs clamped together as I ride it out.

"Open your eyes," he whispers. My eyes flutter, but are unfocused. "Look at me."

I search for him. It's harder than I expect it to be. When I find his eyes, they are intense, and I feel a connection beyond any sexual experience I've ever had. The climax passes, but he doesn't stop, he doesn't let up, and I feel the sensation building to a height I don't recognize. I feel like I might go crazy. I feel a sweat break out on my skin, and my breath comes quickly.

"Edward," I plead, a panic rearing up inside me. I can't cope with the sensation. I feel like I am going to explode. Edward stills, and I sigh in relief. But in seconds he is undressed and has torn open a condom wrapper and rolls it on in a single motion.

"Wait," I say. I want to explore him. I want to feel him. I want to _see_ him properly.

"Can't," he says breathily, and he's on top of me. He pushes inside me with a long, hard thrust. It knocks the breath out of me, as if I had any left. My knees are bent by his waist and my heels dig into his back, his behind, and I pull him to me. I meet his thrusts, and I am building again already. I dig my nails into his back, clinging to him, and to my evaporating self-control. But I can't; I can't hold on. I feel like I'm tearing apart. The orgasm that rocks through me is unlike any that I've ever felt, and it feels like it goes on forever.

Somewhere in the middle, I feel Edward come with me. His back arches backwards, and I catch a glimpse of him in all his glory; head tilted back, an expression of deep satisfaction on his face, his chest bare and muscled with a faint dusting of bronze hair. How on earth is this real?

Then he rolls into me, his head in the crook of my shoulder, his back arched like a cats and he makes a low groan in his throat that almost sounds like the purr. I find it shockingly erotic. I try to kiss him but can't reach his skin. I settle for his hair. It's soft and silky beneath my lips.

"Oh my God," he says into my shoulder. He lets his weight rest on me, and I am pinned beneath him.

"You cheated," I say weakly.

"Cheated?" He rears back so he can see my face.

"I didn't get to explore you." I caress his face. He leans his head into it.

Then quickly, he rolls over so that he's flat on his back, arms and legs outstretched. "I'm all yours."

"I can't move yet." But I do roll into his side. Our legs tangle together, and I breathe in the earthy scent of his sweat dampened skin. "I wanted to make it good for you, too."

"Love, it was more than good. I didn't even know it could be that good."

I tilt my head to see his face. There is truth in his words, I am sure. Even looking at his profile, I can tell that his face is so damn smug.

 **Author's Note**

 **So, what do you think?**

 **Big thanks to Songster for editing.**

 **Rhian**

 **xx**


	25. Chapter 25

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 25**

I am delightfully comfortable, though I can feel the twinge of aches in various places on my body. I am tucked into Edward's side, and his hand trails languorous patterns on my bare back. "How is it that I didn't see you around these last few months, if you've been in Seattle?"

I feel him wince a little, so I turn to see his face. He has that frown line between his eyebrows.

"I knew you didn't want to see me. I knew that it was too soon, that things would be raw... So I'm ashamed to say that I avoided you." He winces again like he's expecting me to react badly. "I took Stella for walks in the day when I knew you'd be at work, and used other parks on the weekend."

"That makes sense." He's right, seeing him wouldn't have been a good thing.

He looks at me curiously, trying to gauge my mood, I think. "I made the mistake of walking at Carkeek on the weekend once. It was in the afternoon, and you usually run in the morning, so I figured it would be okay. I avoided your usual route. I–" He hesitates.

"What happened?"

He rubs his face with his hand. "It was a sunny afternoon and I walked through the woods because you stick to the paths for running, but there you were."

"You saw me?"

"Yes. I only saw the back of your head and your profile, but God, you were beautiful, even more than I had remembered. You were eating at one of the picnic benches on the west side. I think my heart actually stopped when I saw you. My feet made their way to you without my consent, and then I saw," he hesitates again, " _him_."

He turns to his side so we are face-to-face, and strokes his hand down my upper arm. "I know I have no right. I know that I ended things between us, but that was a dagger to my heart. I've never felt pain like it." He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. "You looked happy. Not the exuberant type of happy like the whale watching, but peaceful, enjoying a nice day. I liked that you were happy, but it shattered me that it was with someone else." The pain in his eyes is palpable, even though he's holding me in his bed.

"It _was_ you that day! I thought I saw Stella. I thought I felt you, somehow. But she disappeared into the woods, and I wrote it off as a hopeful imagination."

"I hoped you hadn't seen me. I didn't want to ruin your day with your boyfriend." His face contorts a little at the word.

"That was Jake."

"Your friend Jake?"

"Yeah. We were just hanging out."

"I presumed you were together. After you told me about Mike, I thought that must have been him." That groove between his eyebrows grows deeper. "That's when I knew that I couldn't stay in L.A. For me to feel so much, just seeing you in the park with another man… It was senseless to pretend I could ever have anything with Tanya, regardless of the baby." His face softens as he continues, "But you looked happy, so I stayed away and tormented myself with thoughts of you and him. And now I find out he wasn't even your lover! I'm pathetic."

I place my hand on his cheek and make him look at me. "You're not."

"You were so much better at it than me. You're a coper. I love that about you; you always move forward, no matter what. I want you to teach me how to do that."

His eyes are soft, and I see admiration in his face. It makes me blush and I look down as I say, "You are doing that." I peek up at him briefly. "You've changed your whole life."

"Yeah, after years of treading water, and a back step."

"Don't be so harsh on yourself. You'll have been learning something on the way. What is it they say? That life's about the journey, not the destination? And anyway, you've achieved so much. You are a 'Living Legend'. That's a big deal."

His smile is bashful. It makes him look younger than his years. "You read that article?"

"I may have Googled you, back when Seth wondered if you were _the_ Edward Cullen. I mean how many people can say that?"

"Well, I was on a list of ten…" But I see a glimpse of his usual self-assurance return.

"And, I… I Googled you after you left, too. But I got my comeuppance already and saw lots of some photos of you and Tanya at some events."

"They must have been from before; before I was here."

We lay quietly for a while. Then I ask, "When are we going to talk about the future?"

"What do you want to talk about?"

I see a trepidation in his eyes that makes me uncomfortable, but I go on. "Well, you're going to have a baby, and I was wondering how I would fit in?"

"Erm, however you want. What do you want?" He moves to sit up a little to see me better, I assume, and I follow suit.

"Well, I'm definitely going to want to meet him, but how will that work with him being in L.A?"

"You could come with me at some point, and he'll come here when he's older. Would you want to come with me?"

"I can't not meet your son."

He shifts his weight again and twists so that he can look me in the eye. "But do you want to meet him? I mean really want to? I don't want you to feel obligated."

"Of course I want to."

The tension that had creeped into him since I brought this subject up recedes, and his features relax back into contentment.

"Do you want me to be involved with him?" I ask. I want to be a part of Edward's life, and that means being a part of his son's life, too. But it's complicated. I'm not his mother, and I don't want to step on Tanya's toes in that regard. Though, in other ways I'd like to stomp all over them. It's further complicated by the fact that I'm probably persona non grata as far as Tanya is concerned. I don't want to make things more difficult for Edward.

"How do you mean?" His brow furrows in question.

"If we're going to do this"—I gesture my hand between us—"do you want me to, I don't know, help look after him and stuff?"

"I haven't really thought that far. I don't expect anything. I thought we could play it by ear? I don't have any experience of this."

A frown bunches his brows together. It must be daunting. Unplanned parenthood is not for the faint-hearted. Parenthood in general, I would imagine.

"You'll be a great father. You'll find your way. And if you want me to, I'd like to help."

"I fucked things up so bad." He tugs at his hair. "But I feel awful thinking that way about my son. The first thing I thought when I found out was 'no, this can't be happening.' I had just found you, and the thought of letting you go... the thought of being bound to Tanya forever." A shudder runs though him. "I'm a terrible person."

"You're not. You're human, just like the rest of us. It's what you do that matters, and you're going to be there for your son."

"You're amazing." He lies back down and takes me with him. We are face-to-face, lying on our sides. "Do you know that?"

"I've been told a time or two."

"I can't believe you're finally mine." He grasps my face and kisses me slowly at first, and then with a growing urgency. He rolls me onto my back, and I can feel him everywhere.

I break the kiss with some difficulty, both for breath and to admonish, "Ah-ah-ah. It's my turn." I push at his shoulders so that he rolls onto his back. I rise to my knees, and look down at him. He is a glorious sight most of the time, but naked and spread out on his bed, he is something else entirely. His hair is all over the place as usual though, this time, I'm as much to blame. My fingers just want to be in that hair.

He is wonderfully toned, and his muscles twitch under my appraisal. I delight in it. I sweep my hand up the inside of his thigh, and he takes a deep breath that he holds. I'm in a teasing mood and skip his groin, resuming my exploration at his stomach. I circle his navel with my fingertip, and he exhales brokenly.

His hands settle at my waist as I straddle him. They move upwards towards my breasts. "No, no," I say. "You're not to move." I take his hands and plant them above his head. He plays along, but he's finding it difficult not to touch me. His hips strain upwards. "No moving."

He holds his breath again as I explore his face, his lips, with my fingers. I kiss him, and he groans into my mouth. Then his hands are on me.

I sit back, breaking his hold, and move away from him. "You have a devilish look in your eyes, love."

I smile in response. His abs clench, and he closes his eyes as I take him in my mouth. He lets out a guttural sound. It makes me feel powerful – him writhing in pleasure beneath me.

I reach out to the bedside table to grab a condom. Edward lets out such a large sigh, I think he must have been holding his breath much too long. I take my time ripping open the packet. He's watching me now – every move I make.

He lunges for me, taking me off guard, and before I know what's happened I am flat on my back, and he's on top of me.

He looks deep into my eyes as he pushes inside of me. There is no playfulness now. There is no laughing; no words at all. This time it is slow, and savoring. There is a promise in this exchange that frightens me as much as it appeals. I feel like a moth drawn to the flame. A part of me whispers, you can take the heat.

 **o0o**

Waking up with Edward is as nice as falling to sleep with him. His breathing is deep, and his skin is warm. I love the smell of him. I tuck my face into his side and take a deep breath. I may be some kind of pervert myself. He stirs, and his arm tightens around me.

"Morning." His voice is gravelly with sleep.

"Morning." I kiss his chest where I have tucked my face.

He squirms. "That tickles!" I do it some more.

The day passes quickly in our cocoon of pleasure and newly found intimacy. I am a little nervous about meeting his parents. They're having a barbecue, and Rose and her husband Emmett are going to be there, too.

It's a bright summer's day so I opt for a summer dress and some flat sandals. I ask Edward to stop by the market on the way so I can buy a bunch of flowers and a bottle of wine.

"You don't have to do that," he says.

"I know, but I was brought up to not show up empty handed."

His mother, Esme, answers the door and she is delighted to see us. She takes the flowers and ushers us in.

"Your dad's barbecuing already," she says and nods in the direction of what must be the back yard. Edward smiles at me and takes his cue, leaving us alone.

"These are beautiful, Bella. It's so kind of you." Her caramel colored hair is pulled back in a chignon, but I can still see the wave in it. She has a pretty face, largely untouched by age. It is only the wrinkles around her eyes that give her away. "I am so pleased to meet you."

"Me, too. It's kind of you to invite me."

"Are you kidding? We've wanted to meet you for the longest time."

I hadn't really thought that Edward would have talked to his family about me, but of course he has. "You seem like a close family."

"We are, and we aren't. Both of my children are so independent that they don't rely on me as much as I would like. But I guess I raised them okay if they're strong minded." She laughs, but I think it hides a sadness; she needs to be needed.

"I think you did a great job."

The pride beams out of her. "I can tell we're going to get on well." She winks at me exaggeratedly and resumes arranging the flowers in a vase. "Edward tells me you're from the other side of the Olympic Park."

"Yeah, a little town called Forks. I go back whenever I can."

"And your mom is in Florida?"

"Yes, we're meeting up for a vacation in Nashville soon." I stand by the kitchen counter as we talk. I rest my hands on the marble counter in front of me. It is a beautiful kitchen in the old French style, but with modern twists. I wonder if Edward had anything to do with the design of the house.

"Oh, how wonderful! I've never been."

"Mom is psyched to be going to the Opry." She's always liked country music. I remember her singing to Dolly Parton when I was younger. There is a quote my mom loves: " _The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain._ " I found a pretty greeting card with those words a few years back and had it framed as a gift for her. Good things can sometimes come from the strangest places.

"You must tell Carlisle your plans. He likes country music." She talks with her hands in a way that reminds me of Edward.

"I'm no expert. But I'm excited to go. I like live music."

"Let's go through and meet everyone." Esme is the consummate hostess. She introduces me to everyone like we are old friends and bids me sit down.

Everyone is friendly. When Rose speaks, her usual reserve falls from her face, even more so when she is speaking to Emmett, I note. He is a bear of a man, all thickset muscles and easy-going charm. He pours me a glass of white wine. "Thanks."

Carlisle, Edward's father, looks every bit the retired professional. He is wearing suit pants despite the weather and the occasion, and he even has cufflinks on his shirt sleeves. He strikes me as an old fashioned gentleman. "I hope you like meat, Bella," he calls from his position manning the barbecue.

"I do, yes. That smells so good." I gesture to the grill. It's no exaggeration, and my stomach growls at the aroma.

"Good, good. We've no patience for vegetarians here," he says as he expertly turns a rack of ribs.

"Carlisle!" Esme scolds.

"It is what it is. You can't fill up on lettuce."

I laugh. "I'm with you. I just couldn't do it. Salad is a garnish, not a meal."

"I'm with you there. I appreciate a woman with an appetite." Maybe I have overestimated the gentlemanliness. I find that I like him though, and my smile is genuine. Even more so, when I see Edward's cheeks pink slightly. He rolls his eyes and we exchange a grin.

It's nice to see the family in action; how they interact and bicker good-naturedly. I had feared I would have been out of my depth—what with their semi-famous careers and obvious resulting wealth—but no, we are more alike than I would have thought. I see many parallels with my own family – Esme's mothering, Carlisle's good-natured grumpy old man grumbling, and Rose's resting bitch face. I could easily be at home with my mom, dad, and Leah. Emmett has Seth's easy going nature; I think they'd get on. Edward is the only one without a parallel to my family. Perhaps he is my parallel; stubborn and slightly too serious for our own good.

Esme is so very keen to talk and get to know me that I spend very little time with Edward. We are alone in the kitchen when she says, "I think you're good for him."

"You do?"

"My mom, God rest her soul, used to say that there are two types of people – givers, and takers." She wipes down the kitchen counter as she talks. For all the grandeur of the house, there are no airs and graces. "Now, Edward, he's a giver. Tanya is a taker – take, take, take." She waves her arms away from her in an overstated movement.

"Edward needs a giver. You're a giver, I can tell." She waves her finger in the air. "He has this special smile when he talks about you. I knew it the first time he mentioned you. He told me about Stella knocking you down in the park—she's such a boisterous ball of fluff, sorry dear—and I knew straight away that you were important. His whole face lit up."

"Really?" I think back fondly on that day. Though I ended up with bruises and cut knees, elbows, and hands, I can't regret it. Without that, I never would have gone for coffee with him. I wonder if he'd have asked me out anyway. I would like to think so.

"Oh, yes. I knew you were going to be special. His head got turned when he was young; a beautiful redhead with talent but no substance. This time, I think he knew to look for both. Now, don't get me wrong, I am near ready to explode at the thought of being a grandma"—I can see it in her face—"but I'm glad he's chosen _his_ happiness for a change. Anyway, tell me about your family."

We chat a while longer in the kitchen, and I help clear up. Then we move back outside with the rest of the family. I don't get chance to talk much to Carlisle, but I think we're buddies now that we bonded over our disdain of salad.

Rose is quiet, but not unfriendly. Emmett does most of the talking. As I watch her more closely, I see a sorrow in her eyes that I haven't seen before, a worry that tightens her brow. Then I notice that she's often resting her hand on her belly. I remember a long time ago, Edward told me that they were trying for a baby. There is no bump to speak of, not yet anyway.

"I have an important question for you, Bella," Emmett says. "Seahawks or Mariners?"

"Erm, the Seahawks are football right?"

There is a loud chorus of disgust. "Wrong answer," Emmett booms. "Edward, what are you doing man?"

"Choosing a girlfriend based on something other than sports," he says deadpan.

Emmett sits back in contemplation. "Hm, funny you should mention criteria. Is thinking you're married to your sister one of them?"

Edwards lands a hefty punch in his arm, and Emmett guffaws. I am sure that it would have hurt an average-sized man. There is some mileage in this joke, and I feel warmth in my cheeks.

"Don't mind him, Bella," Rose says. "He's just deflecting because he doesn't want us to get started on his gaffes."

Some ribbing of Emmett ensues, and I understand very little of it. I must find out about these in-jokes.

Edward reaches for my hand. "You okay?" he whispers.

"I'm great. I'm having fun."

He squeezes my hand in relief. I'm glad that I said yes. It's becoming my new favorite word.

We say our goodbyes as the light dims, and the drive home is pleasant. Night has fallen by the time we reach the city and I enjoy watching the lights reflect on the water. I must admit, though I had a good time, I am glad to have Edward all to myself again. It's such a novel feeling; having a boyfriend, and wanting to be with someone all the time.

I check my phone. I have a text from Jake. "Oh I forgot, I am supposed to be meeting Jake for coffee tomorrow." I type out a quick reply to sort the time and place.

"I meant to say, if you want to invite any of your friends around, you're more than welcome. I would like to meet them." He gestures with his hands, even with them on the steering wheel and I am reminded of Esme.

"Yeah, maybe we could have dinner or something. Seth is tripping over himself wanting to meet you."

He sneaks a quick glance at me and flashes a smile. Even in the dim light his handsomeness is disarming. "We should make plans, then. Maybe Seth would want to see my study?"

"Would he ever! I'll text him." I tell him a bit more about my family and friends as we drive through the darkness.

Stella greets us back at the house with a loud yelp and some happy whining. She's such a bundle of joy. "Why didn't we take her?" I ask. "Your mom says she goes with you there mostly."

He shakes his head. "She can't be trusted with the barbecue. She tries to eat the meat, and I'm scared she'll get burned." Figures.

Edward strolls over to his answer machine that is flashing and hits the button. A woman's voice I don't recognize seethes through the speaker, "Why the fuck aren't you answering your phone?" Edward reaches into his coat pocket for his cell, and his eyes bulge.

The woman continues on the answer machine, "Tanya has gone into labor, you fool. Get here now. Let me know when you get the message."

His phone is already at his ear. "What's happened, Irina?"

Who the hell is Irina? I can't hear what she says, but I can sense her tone. Edward's face is stern. There is no love lost between them.

"What does that mean?" he asks. "I'll get the first flight I can." He ends the call and looks at me. "It's too early. She gone into labor. The doctors aren't saying what's wrong. Hell!" He drags his hand through his hair and paces the floor. "I need to get a flight. Shit."

"I'll start the computer, you go pack."

He grasps me by the shoulders, takes a deep breath and plants a kiss on my lips. "Thanks."

"It'll be okay. Go." I gesture towards the stairs.

He takes the stairs two at a time, and I allow worry to color my features now he is out of sight. This can't be good, surely? I don't really know much about childbirth. Only what I've gleaned from Alice recently. If _Grey's Anatomy_ is to be trusted, I am sure that babies can survive being born much earlier than a month these days.

I switch on Edward's laptop. There is a flight eleven ten this evening with seats available that he could just about make. I grab my wallet and make a reservation for him. I enter his room just as he's zipping up a hold-all and tell him about the flight.

"That was quick!"

"I have my talents. Have you got your ID?" He checks his back pocket and nods. "You drive. I'll check you in on my phone on the way."

I half-jog down the stairs with Edward on my heels. He lets Stella out while I replenish her water and food.

Edward grabs his keys.

"We're cutting it fine, but I think we'll make it," I say as I climb into the car.

"What about Stella this week? I'll need to call Rose."

"It's fine. I'll be here. I can work from home some. We'll work it out."

"Her number is saved in the phone if you need it." His hands grip the steering wheel tightly.

Edward is quieter than I've ever known him to be. In our rare moments of quiet, we are usually relaxed and comfortable. Now the tension in the air is palpable, and I don't know how to make it better. I don't think it's within my power.

His hands grip the steering wheel so tightly they turn white. I put my hand over the one closest to me and give his a small squeeze. "It'll be okay." I hope it will. "Don't worry about anything here. I'll take care of Stella."

He reaches out for my hand and grips it tight like it is a life-line. After a while he says, "Be careful. Promise me you'll call Jenks if you are the slightest bit concerned. Make sure you use the alarm."

"I will."

His brow puckers. "Can you get a friend to stay with you, so you're not alone?"

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Seth might like the quiet at your place as opposed to his dorm. I'll ask him tomorrow."

He lets out a sigh. "It would make me feel better. Give him your room. Will you," he sounds uncertain, "stay in mine?"

"Of course." I'll do whatever he wants. I'd do anything to take that look of dread from his face.

 **Author's Note**

 **I can't say thank you enough to those who are reviewing this story – I so love to hear your thoughts. Thanks to everyone for reading.**

 **Special thanks to Songster who is an amazing beta!**

 **Rhian**

 **xx**


	26. Chapter 26

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 26**

I wake to a wet nose and furry muzzle in my face. I groan, but I don't really mean it. Stella slept on the bed with me. I crashed when I got back from the airport last night. It feels too early to be awake. I reach for my phone to look at the time.

I have a text from Edward: _Hi love, landed safe and on my way to the hospital. No news yet – no news is good news, I suppose. Will probably have to turn my phone off, but will try to keep in touch. Miss you already x_

I type back a response: _Try not to worry too much. I have heard of babies being born much earlier than four weeks and being fine, I am sure. You got this. Love you–_

Oh my god, did I really just type that out? It was an unconscious thing. I scroll back quickly and change it to: _Miss you too x_

Am I in love with him? Yes, yes I think I am. What a way to have that revealed – while typing a text of all things! So this is what love feels like. I don't really know how to describe it. My whole life I have been somewhat of a loner. I love my family and friends but I love my alone time, too. But I love it less now. I find that I'd rather be in Edward's company than be alone, and this is new. I usually crave some time on my own, even from my closest friends, but now, in this big empty house, I find I would much rather Edward was here with me.

Phone still in hand, I text Seth to see if he wants to stay here with me. I imagine he'll jump at the chance, especially since Edward is happy for him to see his study.

Stella whines a little, and I think she must want to go out. "Okay, okay. I'm getting up." At my movement, she darts off the bed, and I hear her nails clatter on the wood as she bounds down stairs. I am much slower to follow.

Stella and I have a lazy morning alternating between the deck in the back garden and the sofa in front of the TV. I need to take Stella for a walk, so I text Jake to see if he's happy to join me. I think it's best to be cautious. We can still go get coffee.

"Wow, she's massive," he says when we meet at the park. He leans down on his haunches and pets her chest. "Look at those eyes. She's wild, like a wolf." He says this admiringly. I remember how I saw the same thing and nicknamed her Dani after Daenerys from _Game of Thrones_. "But she's friendly." She licks his hand, having decided that he's an okay guy.

"So what's the deal with this Peter guy now?"

"Creepy to the point that I'm not staying at home, but absent enough that they don't seem to think I'm in danger. In other words; shitty."

"Shit, Bella! Is there anything I can do?" He drags his hand through his hair as we walk through the gates and further into the park.

"You're doing it. Thanks for coming. I think it's wise not to be at the park on my own for a little while. He has been here a couple of times."

Jake's body language changes; he is more alert, and there is tension in his jaw as he scans the park. He looks older somehow.

"That bastard! Like he hasn't done enough. I'd like to see him try to get past Stella, though." He has a point. I've only seen her being friendly, but I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of her. I can feel her strength as she pulls on the lead. I think it'll be a good work out for my arms. I think she wants off the lead, but I don't want to risk her not coming back to me like she does for Edward.

"Jenks, the security guy, is collecting evidence to get a type of restraining order. Anyway, don't let him ruin our day." I elbow him lightly. It's a nice enough day – not as warm and sunny as it could be for August, but the sky is blue in between the clouds, and though the wind blows fiercely, the air is dry. "How have you been?"

A shy smile tugs at his cheek and he looks like Jake again, only less sullen. "Good, looks like I'm going to get that job I told you about."

"Nice one! What great news. Well done." I can't really hug him as I hold Stella's leash. She is pulling me forward faster than I want to walk already. So I put my hand on his arm in congratulations.

"Thanks. And there's this girl I've met." That shy smile broadens. Stella is pulling on the leash something fierce. "Allow me," he says, taking the leash. Stella turns to look at him, and it might be my imagination, but I fancy that her eyes narrow in suspicion. I worry she might not like this change of leash-holder, then a labradoodle walks by and she turns to make friends. I exchange a smile with the dog's owner before passing by.

"What's her name? Tell me everything," I say, getting back to our conversation.

Jake tells me plenty as we walk around the park. Her name is Claire. She's twenty-five and she works in the lab that he's been interning at while trying to secure this job. I can tell already that she's good for him because of the way he looks when he talks about her. He's animated in a way I seldom see. I can tell he's really excited.

Seth calls when we're having coffee to say he's on his way. He's going to stay with me until Edward is back. "I better go back soon. Seth is staying with me tonight."

"I'm glad you're not on your own. Shall I walk you home?"

"Thanks." I am lucky in my friends.

He whistles when he sees Edward's place. "I get the attraction." I punch him in the arm, but I can see that he's playing around.

"I'm sorry if I've been a dick about your dating. I was a bit messed up for a while, but I'm good now." I can see that he is. I'm glad that he's met someone that makes him happy. I'm glad we both have. I hope and pray that the baby is okay. We need something to go right for once.

The three of us hang out for a while. Seth and Jake get on well despite the age gap. They look strangely alike in fact, though Seth's taller. They're both impressed by Edward's TV, something about pixels and HD that holds no interest for me. Stella is a little on edge with boisterous strangers in the house, and she takes a seat at my feet like a guard dog.

When Jake leaves Seth stands and says, "Come on then!"

"What?"

"I want to see the study. I brought some plans. I figured I'd work here." He grabs a large folder that he brought with him.

"Oh, sure." I slide on my sandals and lead the way upstairs.

It's the scale model of Amber Tower that first catches his attention. "Wow." He looks like a kid in a candy shop. He wanders around looking at sketches and models, tentatively touching the edges of things with his index finger.

"Shall I leave you to it?" I ask with a broad grin on my face.

"Oh wait. I wanted to show you something." He opens the folder that he had left on the large table in the center of the room. There are a number of pieces of paper, all with thin grey lines in box shapes.

"Did Mom tell you? I'm working on the plans for Leah and Sam's new place." He says this nonchalantly, but I can sense the excitement in him from his fast movements and animated face.

"No, wow. That is cool!" I push at his shoulder. "Are you ready for that already? Impressive."

"They're going to get an architect to look over them when I'm done. But I'm going to design it." His smile is infectious. I take a seat on a stool next to him, and he explains the plans. I have never really thought of Seth outside of the context of being my little brother. It's a surprise to see his talent, though it shouldn't be. I forget that he's all grown up sometimes.

"I'll leave you to it, Mr. Architect." I stand to leave the room, but turn in the doorway. "I'll shout when it's time for dinner?"

"Thanks," he says distractedly. He is absorbed in making a change after he noticed a mistake when he was showing me the plans.

It's getting late and I'm hungry so I make a start on cooking. I find chicken and some chilies and peppers in the fridge, and decide to make a stir fry of sorts but with rice that I found in the store cupboard. For someone that doesn't cook, Edward has a well-stocked kitchen.

I chop some onions and put them in a pan to soften. I never have liked them crispy. I dice the chicken and some garlic and chili. I hunt through his cupboards to see if he has any ginger. A jar of the stuff would be better than nothing. I am on my knees on the kitchen counter rummaging in the back of one of the cupboards when my phone rings. It startles me and I bang my head against the cupboard door. I yelp an incoherent sound. My cell is within reach on the counter, so I answer it from my dubious position. It's Edward. "Hey," I say but I'm still a little distracted.

"Hey." His voice is somber and sad. This gets my full attention.

"Is there any news? What's the matter?" I move the phone to my other ear and rub my head where I banged it.

"She's still in labor."

The bleakness in his voice has my nerves crackling. "Okay." I draw out the word as I try to figure out what's going on. "That can be normal right?"

"Yeah."

I turn so that I'm sitting on the counter, my legs hanging over the side. "Edward, is there something you want to tell me?"

"He's not mine." His voice breaks.

"What do you mean?" I jump off the counter and pace.

He clears his throat, but his voice still isn't his. "I talked to the doctor. She said it's a full-term labor, no complications." He lets out a small huff.

"The baby isn't yours?" I repeat foolishly as the thought sinks in.

"It can't be, if it's full term. That would mean he was conceived in November sometime. We didn't have sex until just before Xmas, and not for months before that. She must have been pregnant already. She might even have known what she was doing that night…" He trails off, letting the thought hang in the air. His voice has a hollow quality that breaks my heart.

"Oh, Edward. I don't know what to say... I'm sorry." That manipulative bitch. How could she do that?

"I just wanted to hear your voice." He sounds like he's adjusting his position, wherever he is.

"Where are you?"

"On a bench outside the hospital."

"What are you going to do?" Isn't that the million-dollar question? I have walked out onto the back deck and look out onto the garden; the garden that might have had a small boy running around in it one day. I shake the thought away and resume my pacing.

"I– I have no idea." I hear friction, and his voice is muffled. I imagine him rubbing his face. "What are you doing?"

"Shit!" I rush towards the stove and turn the burner off. The onions have burnt and the smell is acrid in the air. I can taste it on my tongue.

"What is it?" he asks, his tone suddenly more alert.

"It's okay. I was making dinner, but I took my eye off the pan." I empty the contents of the pan into the trash as I speak.

"Is Seth there?"

"Yeah, he's doing some work in your study."

I put some cold water in the pan. I hope that I haven't burnt the actual pan. No doubt it's a fancy expensive one.

"Work? Hasn't he broken up for summer?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you Leah and Sam have bought a plot of land?"

"No." He sounds a little more like himself.

"Well, they did, and they're going to build a house. Seth is going to do the plans. He's psyched. They look good to me." I shrug my shoulders though he can't see me.

"I can help him, if he likes."

"I don't think they can afford you!" I tease, but it falls flat – of course it does.

"It's nothing to look over his plans."

"I'm sure they'd love that. Is your mom there yet?" I know it was her plan to be there.

"She's on her way. She, um, doesn't know. I found out after she'd boarded. How am I going to tell her she's not a grandma?"

"I'm glad you won't be on your own. Do you want me to come be with you?"

"Thank you." He lets out a big sigh. "I think– I think I'll be home soon. Can you stay and look after Stella?"

"Of course. She's being good for me, though she hogs the bed." He chuckles, and I am glad I could bring some light relief.

"I already love him."

"I know."

"What am I going to do?"

"What do you want to do?"

"I have no idea."

"You don't have to decide everything just now. There isn't any rush."

"You're right. I don't have to decide now." His speech quickens, and I think he must like this idea, but it slows as he says, "I don't feel like I can just leave."

"Then don't. Stay as long as you need to. Everything is fine here. Have you spoken with Tanya?"

There is a long pause before he answers, and I hear a loud exhale of breath into the phone. "No. I can't even look at her." His voice is harsh and grinding like he's talking through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry she did this to you, Edward."

He chuckles without humor. "You and me both. To think she almost got in the way of _us_." She knew exactly what she was doing, I'm sure.

"Did you suspect that he might not have been yours?" I ask tentatively. I regret the question as it leaves my mouth, as this is probably a conversation for another time. But it's out there now.

"Not remotely. I figured she'd staged it, come onto me and lied about being on the pill, but I never thought she could be as callous as this." He pauses as if in thought, then rushes on, "I mean seriously, like I wasn't going to find out? Did she think I wouldn't notice when he came early?" I hear a loud bang like he has hit something, or knocked something over, then he is quiet a moment.

His voice is much softer when he says, "I loved her once. How could she do this to me?"

I feel such sorrow for him. All that expectation and build-up – he took on a role and responsibilities that he never wanted and after all that it has come to nothing. Perhaps it's for the best – not to have a tie to such a destructive woman, but I keep that thought to myself; it is too soon to voice it. Instead I say, "I'm sorry. Come home. Come home to me."

"I'll be there soon. You're right. There is nothing for me here but sadness. I have some loose ends to tie up, and I'll come home as soon as I can." His breath catches a little and he says, "God, I can't tell you how good it is to hear you tell me to come home."

It felt good to say. I've never wanted to make him feel like he had to choose. I was prepared to share him with his child, but I won't share him now. "It's where you belong."

"I won't argue with that. I miss you already. The thought of coming home to you is all that is keeping me going."

"Well be quick about it, Mr. Cullen," I quip.

"Yes, ma'am," he drawls with a passable southern twang. "Did you call Rose about help with Stella until I can arrange a flight?"

"No need to, Seth is on summer break, so he'll be around often enough for Stella."

"That's good of him."

"He likes her."

He emits another low chuckle, but I can still hear the tinge of sadness.

"I wouldn't count on everything still being in your study when you get back." My attempt is weak, and the silence stretches out. "I wish I could make it better."

"You do. You'll be there when I get back?"

"Of course."

"I'll call you when I can. Be safe. Don't take any risks."

"I'm not." I want to tell him I love him, but it's not the time for revelations. "Take care." It sounds hopelessly inadequate to my ears.

I wash out the pan and put it back on the burner, but my heart's not in it, and my mind circles Edward's news. How unutterably sad – for him to have changed his life, started planning for a future with a son that doesn't exist. Tanya must have known. How didn't _he_ know? He would have gone with her for appointments, I would think. He would want to be there. Did she exclude him somehow? She would have known the charade couldn't last, that it would be obvious when the baby was born. I've never liked Tanya. Her controlling nature and selfishness is anathema to me. But now, now the bitter taste of hatred fills my mouth. This isn't selfishness; this is downright cruelty.

 **o0o**

"Bella, can you help with this?" Jessica calls from her desk.

I walk over. She's flustered and her cheeks are red. "What's up?"

"This damn thing is going to be the death of me." She gestures at her computer. "I saved a file – I know I did, but I can't find it anywhere."

"Have you tried recent items? What file were you in?"

"The Johnson one." She clicks on it again to refresh it.

"Have you tried searching?"

"Yeah that's why is whirling. It's going to take an age and"—she looks at the clock—"I need to send it in fifteen minutes." The stress of the deadline has her voice rising in pitch.

"Don't worry we'll find it. Do you mind if I drive?" She stands and gives me her seat. It doesn't take too long to find it. She'd accidentally saved it to a different file, easily done and hard to find on our slow systems. We really should invest in new tech.

"Thanks, Bella!" I stand and she resumes her seat. "I swear to God it's like my brain stops functioning when I panic. I should have thought of that."

"You'll remember next time. Now that crisis is averted, how are you doing with Johnson's overall?"

"Good, though I think I'm going to need some help." She pulls a list from her desk drawer. "They've sent me an urgent request to recruit. I need to check some details, but I doubt I can meet the deadline on my own, and I'm not sure my pipeline of applicants is big enough either. I was going to talk to you about it."

I turn to Charlotte who is sitting nearby. "Hi Charlotte, did you catch any of that?"

"No sorry, how can I help?" She turns her seat around and wheels it slightly forward to better hear us.

"Jess could use a hand with an urgent request for Johnson. Do you have any suitable candidates on your books?"

"I'm sure I do. Shall we catch up Jess? I'll just finish this ID check and I can be with you?"

"That's perfect, thanks. I'll send this report off." She huffs out a sigh of relief.

As Charlotte turns away, her blouse gapes a little at the buttons. I am sure that I see bruising on her stomach. It's a shocking shade, somewhere between purple and grey, on her pale white skin. I find myself staring in that direction even though she has long since turned her back on me and is sitting back at her desk. All this time I've been worried about me and my safety, and here is Charlotte black and blue.

I hadn't really meant to, but with the risk that Charlotte was telling Peter information about my whereabouts, I had started to think of her as the enemy. This was all the easier to do after she changed her statement and protected him – it created a distance between us, and I stopped supporting her. I am an awful person.

She is not my enemy. She is a lost young girl in need of help. Peter is the enemy of both of us. We have common ground there. I must make more of an effort with her. That bastard. I resolve to make more of an effort.

 **o0o**

I open my eyes. All I see in the darkness are the shadows cast by the ambient light of the moon seeping through the curtains. I don't know what woke me. Something isn't right. I feel Stella move beside me, and a low growl rumbles in her throat. I've never heard her growl before. I sit up so fast it makes me dizzy. I hear a noise from downstairs that raises my hackles.

Surely it's Seth, but my breath comes quick, and I reach for my phone. I type in 911 and hover my thumb over the call button as I approach the bedroom door. Stella is by my side and another growl hisses through her teeth at the sound of a door closing. "Shh," I whisper. It sounds like the front door. Seth wouldn't be going out now. I put the alarm on, didn't I?

I open the door and she explodes from the room like a bullet from a gun. I hear her nails clattering on the hard wood of the stairs frantically as she descends. She starts barking, and my thumb itches to hit the call button. I make my way down the stairs as quick as I dare. I try to make as little noise as possible as I open the door to the room where Seth's sleeps. My heart sinks to find him there, in his bed, fast asleep. Who the hell is downstairs?

 **Author's Note**

 **Thank you so much for reading! I'm having fun writing this story and feel blessed to have readers following it. I would love to hear from you, so if you're following this story, drop me a review – it helps other readers know that it's worth a go :)**

 **Huge thanks to Songster for editing, as always.**

 **Rhian xx**


	27. Chapter 27

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 27**

 _Recap:_

 _I open my eyes. All I see in the darkness are the shadows cast by the ambient light of the moon seeping through the curtains. I don't know what woke me. Something isn't right. I feel Stella move beside me, and a low growl rumbles in her throat. I've never heard her growl before. I sit up so fast it makes me dizzy. I hear a noise from downstairs that raises my hackles._

 _Surely it's Seth, but my breath comes quick, and I reach for my phone. I type in 911 and hover my thumb over the call button as I approach the bedroom door. Stella is by my side and another growl hisses through her teeth at the sound of a door closing. "Shh," I whisper. It sounds like the front door. Seth wouldn't be going out now. I put the alarm on, didn't I?_

 _I open the door and she explodes from the room like a bullet from a gun. I hear her nails clattering on the hard wood of the stairs frantically as she descends. She starts barking, and my thumb itches to hit the call button. I make my way down the stairs as quick as I dare. I try to make as little noise as possible as I open the door to the room where Seth's sleeps. My heart sinks to find him there, in his bed, fast asleep. Who the hell is downstairs?_

Now:

I shake Seth as hard as I can. He sleeps like the dead. _Hell!_ I hear a whimper from downstairs, and worry for Stella. I run down into the living area without thinking it through.

What greets me almost worse than Peter. It's Edward, and though I should be happy about that fact, his face... His face doesn't look like him. The flicker of relief at finding him here vanishes. He looks broken and hollow.

A silent exchange passes between us. There are no words for this grief. He looks diminished somehow—smaller and less vibrant—devoid of his usual self. His face crumples as our eyes hold. I walk to him and wrap my arms around him. I balance on my toes so that I can pull him to me.

His sobs tear something inside of me. They are an inhuman sound. His grasp is firm and he squeezes me to him. I support his weight for as long as I can, but we end up on the floor with Stella curled up next to us.

After what feels like a very long time, I coax him to bed. We don't talk. There is too much grief in him to voice it, I think. He is shattered and exhausted. I hold him as I fall to sleep.

My alarm wakes me, and it hurts my head. I scramble quickly to turn it off. But Edward stirs – of course it has woken him. "Go back to sleep," I urge, stroking his hair.

I leave the bed reluctantly, and make my way downstairs. I send Victoria a text to let her know I'm going to work from home today. I grab my car keys and tip-toe outside in my bare feet. My work laptop is in the trunk.

I set it up on the kitchen island and boil the kettle. I make Edward a coffee in case he can't get back to sleep and a glass of water in case he does. I root through the cabinet in the downstairs bath for some Advil and win; there are some. I take two and put two in my pocket to leave on the bedside table. He'll feel like shit, no doubt.

Stella stirs as I creep back into the bedroom. She guards her master well, and her head pops up quickly, only to scoot back down when she sees it's me. Edward has gone back to sleep, which pleases me. He sleeps on his front, his arms wrapped around his pillow. I can't say he looks peaceful, but I am glad he's getting some overdue rest.

I place my offerings down on his side of the bed and motion for Stella to follow me. She sits up alert and stares at me from the bed, unblinking. "Come on, girl," I whisper. I hold my hands out to show her I'll pet her, and she's mine. She's out of bed in a flash and rubbing against me as we go downstairs.

Seth wakes before Edward does. I am working at the kitchen island, still in my pajamas.

"Morning," he says stretching. "Working from home today?"

I raise my eyebrows and purse my lips. "Hm." I carry on typing.

"What?" He yawns loudly.

My fingers pause and I glare at him. "I heard a noise last night and came to you for help. You were dead to the world. Great help in an emergency, you are!"

He looks sheepish. "Sorry. No harm done, I take it?"

"It was Edward."

"He's back? How is he?" He scratches his stomach.

"Not great." My face, no doubt, says it all. My focus goes back to the screen, but my mind lingers on Edward. The grief in him last night was overwhelming. I hope that I can help him.

"I can't even imagine." He shakes his head as if chasing the thought away. "I'll get out of your hair." He moves as if to return to his room.

"I don't want to kick you out or anything after helping me." Though little help he was, I add snidely in my head.

"You're not. You two will want to talk properly, and I don't want to be in the way." He runs his hand through his hair. "Poor guy."

"Well, don't rush. I think he's going to sleep most of the day. Have a coffee, some breakfast."

He makes his way to the kettle and pulls out Edward's French press as the water boils. "I have plans this afternoon anyway," he says. "Shall I take Stella for a walk first?"

"That'd be great." He rubs my shoulder as he passes.

"Thanks, Seth."

We are mostly silent as he eats his breakfast, and I do my best to focus on work. When he reaches for Stella's lead a little while later, she bounds towards him like a mad thing and Seth pets her roughly but playfully. She loves it, her whole butt wagging rather than just her tail. Seeing them together brings a smile to my face.

I hear Edward showering; the blast of the water through the pipes. The sound seems loud in the quiet that is so contrary to the turmoil of my thoughts. I wonder whether I should go to him. Maybe he'll want some space. I have no idea what I'm doing. I decide to take the plunge, and walk upstairs. I knock tentatively, and open the door slightly to ask if he wants breakfast.

"Not yet." His voice is scratchy. "Thanks," he adds as an afterthought.

I look at him now. He looks hungover, with tight eyes and dark patches beneath them. The look in his eyes is unfathomable. The water from the shower has darkened his hair, and it's slicked back on his head.

His eyes meet mine. "Join me?" There is a vulnerability about him that sparks a pain in my chest.

I step into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. His shower is in the wet room style, set in the corner of the large master bath. Only a pane of glass separates us. He watches me with hooded eyes as I undress. The spark of eroticism feels wrong in the circumstances, but the awareness of his gaze has the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. This is still so new; so exciting.

The air is hot and the steam from the shower clouds the air. But it's the heat of his stare that warms me, I am sure. I walk towards him, and he wraps me tight in his embrace. He kisses my temple, the side of my neck, my breast, and my stomach as he descends to his knees. Soon I am braced against the tile wall and am holding on for dear life.

 **o0o**

It is some time later, when we are both damp and sated on his bed that we start to talk. I have no experience of real adult grief. I never knew Renee's parents, there was only her mom and she passed when I was a baby. I have vague recollections of my grandparents on my dad's side. In fact, it's only the day of Grandpa's funeral that I remember with any certainty. The grown-ups were all dressed in black, and I remember looking down confused by my green velvet dress that I usually wore for parties. I also remember Grandma crying inconsolably. I don't remember much about her – she didn't stay in this world long without him, but I do remember being shocked that day. Grandma was never anything but composed, I remember that.

I roll to my side and run my fingers through his hair. "Do you want to talk?"

"I don't know what to say. I don't know what I feel." He copies my motion and rolls to face me, too.

"It's a shock."

He traces his finger on my clavicle. "Where's your pearl necklace? When I would think of you, you were always wearing it."

"I can't find it. I am sure it's in my apartment somewhere. I haven't had chance to look for it properly."

"He's beautiful." The smile on his face is wondrous, undercut by grief.

"You met him then?"

He nods and swallows his emotion. "I didn't mean to. I didn't think it would achieve anything, but my legs started walking to the nursery without my permission."

I stroke my hand through his hair, hoping to comfort him. "He had a sign on his crib saying 'Baby Cullen,'" he says, his eyes distant – more focused on the memory than on the present.

"How much does he weigh?"

"Seven pounds on the dot." His hand, that had continued to caress that spot on my neck, stops moving. "I want to be angry with her, but I don't have enough room inside me right now." He lets out a big sigh and resumes his motion. "I'm sure it will come. Anyway, I think my mom had enough for both of us."

I raise an eyebrow. Esme is every bit the lady, but yes, I can see it when I think it through – she's a mom through-and-through in the same way Sue is. She wouldn't let a hurt to her child go lightly. "How is she?"

"She's devastated."

"I'm sure." I reach for his hand, and he laces our fingers together. "I had it so clear in my head that I was going to be a father. All the things I was going to do, going to be, and it's crashed down around me." He closes his eyes, and I can see the tension in his face.

"I can't believe she could do this to me. I know we've had our differences, but my God. I loved that woman once. She's not the person I thought she was at all." I place my hand on his face and scratch his stubble with my thumbnail.

"I figured she'd maneuvered it – planned the night that we… It's obvious looking back, the way she came onto me. I figured afterwards that she had lied about being on the pill, but she was already pregnant. She was four months gone before she told me; she would have known it couldn't be mine. I knew she could be selfish, but I could never have imagined she would be so cruel." He squeezes his eyes tight and shakes his head as if to shake it all away.

"I missed a couple of appointments, always a reason it was rescheduled the last minute and I had a meeting. She was contriving it all. Did she think I wouldn't notice when he came early? I wonder whether she's lost it. There must be something seriously wrong if she thought she'd get away with that."

I smooth his frown line with my finger, and then kiss him in between his eyebrows.

He chuckles lightly. "That tickles. What are you doing?"

"I'm kissing away your frown."

His expression eases. "Thank God, I have you." He buries his face in my shoulder and hugs me tight.

 **o0o**

I'm catching up with work, intently working on a report when the noise of my phone ringing pierces the silence. I start and laugh at myself. "Hello."

"Hi Bells, its Dad."

"Hi Dad."

I don't quite catch what he says. "Hm."

"Bella, what are you doing? I can hear typing."

Busted. "Just finishing my sentence before I forget it is all." I hit save. "I'm all yours."

"I want to talk to you about Peter."

I frown as I head to the refrigerator to get a drink. "Hit me."

"Jenks and his team were struggling to find the basics about his past and we found out why. Peter White is a name that he assumed when he moved to Seattle."

"It's not his real name?" I feel my eyebrows bunch together and try futilely to relax my forehead.

"No, he was born Parker Leroy Wyatt in Claxton, Anderson County, Tennessee."

"I knew he was from Tennessee, but why would he change his name?"

"His family was in the local media. It didn't make the national press, but a quick Google search will tell you all you need to know."

I set my glass of water on the counter and sit at my computer. I type in 'Parker Wyatt, Anderson County' as Dad continues, "When he was sixteen, his father murdered his mother."

"What?" I click on an article in the Claxton Press. It reads "Local steam plant worker gets life for battering wife to death." You read things like this all the time unfortunately, but there is something much more 'real' about it when there is a connection; something infinitely more frightening when I think that this is what Peter came from.

"His father pleaded guilty and is serving life–" I don't catch the rest of the sentence. I am gripped by the photo on the screen in front of me. It is a black and white mug shot of Leroy Wyatt; Peter's father. His eyes are dark hollows in his face, his brow imposing and his expression screams danger. I can see Peter in him; or rather I can see Leroy in Parker. This is fucked up!

"Are you there?"

"I'm here. What now?"

"Well, nothing in particular. It doesn't change any plans, I just wanted you to know now that we're certain." He exhales loudly and it crackles through the connection. "It's easy to find a name change, but he bought a stolen identity by the look of it, that's why it took longer."

He lapses into silence and I wonder what he's thinking. "What aren't you saying?"

"It worries me – sins of the father, and all that. These things are cyclical..."

"History repeating itself, you mean." God, I really do need to help Charlotte.

"What's the situation there now?"

"Edward is back and Seth's gone home."

"Already? I thought he was going to stay a while?"

"The baby isn't his."

He lets out a large breath but declines to comment. "Okay. Be careful, Bells."

"I will." I hit end and set my phone down on the counter, but my mind circles the conversation and I stare absently at my phone a while. It explains a lot, I guess – why Peter is the way that he is. What a place to come from, no wonder he ran away from that. But wouldn't that mean that he wanted to put it behind him? But history is repeating. I wonder if Charlotte knows. I think they ran away together, so she must do – it was all over the press. Maybe he was different back then, maybe there was a hope for a better life.

I search a while longer online. Each article reads the same. After glorifying in the brutal murder of Bertha Wyatt with gory details of her death, their son Parker is noted to be living with his Aunt Jane.

I am sick to my stomach. I try to get back to work but I can't focus. I'm glad when Edward comes downstairs.

"Hi. Are you hungry?"

"I think I should eat something." He absently rubs his stomach, and I wonder when he last ate.

"I'll cook. Take a seat." I close the laptop lid. It will still be waiting for me tomorrow. "What do you feel like eating?"

"Whatever you want to make. Don't go to any trouble." He takes a seat at the kitchen island.

I've been shopping so the fridge is well stocked. I grab some pancetta. "How about carbonara?"

His smile is soft, but it's there. "Thanks."

I put the pasta on to boil. "Are you feeling any better?"

He shrugs. "Sleep always helps, I guess. I have a lot to do."

"How do you mean?"

"I need to get an office in Seattle. Hire some staff. Would you come see the plots on San Juan with me?"

"Of course. I remember you saying you were thinking of building there."

He ruffles his hand in his hair. "Yeah. I got a little side-tracked, but I want to."

"It's a plan then," I say grabbing a frying pan and placing it on the stove.

"I'm going to put the house back up for sale. I need to sever all ties." His brow bunches. "And wrap up all the L.A. work. I might even be able to pass some of it onto contacts I have."

We lapse into amicable silence for a while as I cook, and Edward sets the table.

"Maybe we should plan a weekend away," he says. "Have some fun, spend some quality time together?"

"That'd be nice. Hey, it's Leah's birthday next weekend – I'm going home to Forks for the weekend." I stir the pasta to make sure it's not sticking, and then twist to see him. "Do you want to come?"

He walks back towards me and there's that soft smile again. "I'd really like that."

"Then let's do it. Leah's planning dinner and drinks for her birthday, I think. Seth will come with us, though. I usually drive us both."

"I wouldn't mind driving."

"It would be comfier in your car." I lean over the opposite side of the kitchen island where he is sitting. "We could plan something just us on the other day?"

"No, we can spend time together any time." His smile broadens as he says this. "We should spend time with your family."

God, I love him so much. I don't have the courage to tell him, but I bet it's all over my face. I clear my throat. "Did you manage to sleep?"

"Yeah, I got some hours in. I can't claim to feel rested though." He looks down at the glass in his hand. "I–" He falters, and I turn to look at him. "I wanted to say thank you for earlier, and last night. I was a mess..." He clears his throat and shakes his head. His jaw twitches, and I am not sure whether he is embarrassed, or fighting a strong emotion. It doesn't matter. I walk around the island to him and wrap my arms around him from behind.

After a moment or two, he shuffles around on the stool and wraps me in his arms. "This is my job."

"You don't have to look after me, Edward."

"I do." He squeezes me tighter as he says it.

"What I mean is I can look after myself. And I can look after you, too." My words are muffled in his chest, but he hears me.

"You do look after me, don't you?" He rubs my back in a repeated motion. "Maybe we can look after each other."

I rest my head against his chest. "I like the sound of that."

 **Author's Note**

 **Thank you so much for reading. I would love to hear your thoughts about this story!**

 **Huge thanks to Songster, particularly for her eagle-eyed editing and making my Brit-speak more convincingly American!**

 **Pay it Forward will be featuring three fics in three different categories on their new blog each month. Number one will be our Rookie ... A new, first-time writer showcasing their first fic on our blog. Number two will be our Encore ... A new fic from a seasoned author giving us a sneak peek. Number three will be our Classic ... one from the vault, a time-tested oldie. If you are a Rookie and need help, contact Fran on the PIF page. And if you have an Encore, contact her to get your new fic showcased. And anyone interesting in writing a summary on one of their favs, please feel free to send it in**.

 **Rhian xx**


	28. Chapter 28

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 28**

Charlotte and I are sitting in a meeting room. It is time for her quarterly review, but to be honest, I am more interested in getting our relationship back on track. Her work is always done to a good standard, so it won't take long to go through it. She manages some demanding clients, and it doesn't ruffle her. I guess she has handled worse. I suppress a shudder. I can't help but remember a different day in this meeting room; Charlotte picking at her hem, and her wide frightened eyes.

I have thought about some objectives that will help her grow her confidence. She would be a good mentor and that's exactly what I have in mind. "So what do you think?" I ask her.

"I don't know what to say." I can tell she's flattered and also a bit flummoxed. She fidgets in a different way today – her hands are busy in front of her and one rests open-palmed on her chest as she says, "If you think I can do it, I'll give it my best shot."

"But what do you think?"

She takes a moment to think. "I think I would enjoy it. I do know quite a bit, so I think I could help others." Her eyes wander to the side of me as she contemplates. "I know that Alec is struggling a bit with Kennedy's. Maybe I could help him get organized?"

"Perfect. I think you could really make a difference there. Then, more long term, I am hoping to have a separate team dedicated to the work for Johnson's, and I'd like you to be a part of it. You've already worked on that account a few times, and I think you and Jess work well together."

"I think so, too. She's a sweetheart to me. She even gives me a ride home sometimes." She bites her lip. "I know things have been strained between us, and I'm sorry about how things turned out."

"You don't need to be sorry."

"But I am, all the same. And I wanted to talk with you if that's okay?"

Her eyes are wide and I wonder what she has to tell me. "Of course."

"Well, he's worrying me – Peter that is. He talks about you all the time. I think he's obsessed." Her voice rises in pitch and gains in speed as she continues, "He keeps talking about getting his own back and I–" She stops dead. "Bella, why aren't you shocked?"

"I met him in the park near home. He said as much himself."

Her eyes pop wide, and she opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. It's a while before she can gather her thoughts and she says, "My God! I took him for more of a coward than that. I'm so sorry."

"You're not responsible for him." I notice that I am fidgeting with my pen, so I place it down and clasp my hands on the table in front of me.

"I'm leaving him for real this time. Last time I was scared and reacting, so I got it all wrong. I am going to do it properly this time." Her face is clear and I see calm determination, but I've seen her determined before. "I'm going to plan carefully and disappear; get a new name, move far, far away."

My eyes widen, and she reaches a hand across the table, though she is too far away to reach me. "Don't worry. I won't leave you in the lurch. Like I said I'm planning, I'll give you notice. I'll just ask you to keep it private. I don't want a fuss. He might find out and it would tip him off."

"I'll be sorry to lose you, but I would be so happy to know you're far away from Peter."

Her smile is wistful. "I can have a whole new life if I'm brave enough. A new town, a new look..."

"I think you're very brave."

"I didn't mean to ruin your plans for me. I will be here a while yet and I can train my replacement."

"Don't worry about that. You have to do what's best for you."

Her smile turns bittersweet. "It's long overdue." She bites her lip before she asks, "So Peter is bothering you?"

How much to say? I suppose there is no harm in revealing what Peter already knows. "I saw him in the park that time, and I was getting some nuisance calls…"

"He's calling you? That bastard must have got your number from my phone." If she's acting, she is doing an incredibly good job of it. Her face is flushed and worry clouds her eyes, and even a spark of anger. "I'm so sorry, Bella. It's all my fault. You tried to help me and look where it's gotten you." She swallows and sorrow swims in her eyes. "I can't tell you how sorry I am."

 **o0o**

Edward and I are going out for dinner with Alice and Jasper tonight. We're meeting at eight so I've come home to change. I'm just struggling to zip up my dress when Edward comes to my rescue. "I could get used to this." I turn to him. "I have a method but it's sometimes a struggle."

"Well," he draws the word out, "I much prefer undressing you than dressing you, if I'm honest. But it's a burden I'm willing to bear," he says like he's bestowing some great favor and kisses me soundly on the lips.

"Hm, I could get used to that, too." He goes to kiss me again, and I pull away. "Stop it. We will be late if you carry on like that!"

"They're your friends; they won't mind." His arms wrap around the small of my back. They feel large and strong, and there is a flutter in my stomach.

"You're right, but it's not happening. I would mind."

"You mind having sex with me?" He puts on a fake hurt face that has me laughing. He peppers my face with kisses but walks me back towards the door. He tickles me and I squirm, taken by surprise. "Let's go."

Edward drives. It's so nice not to have to drive everywhere all the time. I hadn't realized it annoyed me. We arrive at the restaurant and find a parking space nearby. Alice has chosen a fancy restaurant downtown as she wants to celebrate the fact that they finally have a date for the house move. Though it's going to be when I'm away with my mom, so I'm not going to be able to help. Such a shame.

Alice is as bouncy as ever. I'm not sure that qualifies as an appropriate adjective, but that's what she is. She showers Edward with questions, but he handles it well. It's satisfying to see how well he fits in. He has questions of his own and asks about how we met and we reminisce a while.

"Bella, are you going shopping before you go away?" she asks. Alice has her priorities.

"Probably, I haven't thought about it. Why?"

"I need to go shopping. I'm getting fat." She places both hands on her stomach.

"Fat? Don't be ridiculous!" She is as thin as ever. She's barely two months pregnant.

"I can't fit in my clothes!" she wails.

"So what are you wearing?"

She pulls the side of her dress out dramatically. "My one and only stretchy dress! I have too many fitted things." I sneak a glance at Edward and see that the subject doesn't seem to have bothered him overly, though his eyes show some tension.

"Let's go shop. We're going to Forks this weekend but maybe the next one?"

She turns to Edward. "Oh, you're going to meet the folks?" He nods. "You'll love them. Do you want some pointers?"

"Definitely." He leans his head towards her.

"Do you know anything about fishing?" she asks as if this is a very important question. Jasper and I look at each other across the table and barely suppress our smiles.

"No." Edward shakes his head regrettably.

"Cars?"

"Yeah, I'm no mechanic, but I know my way around."

"Perfect! Charlie has this old car in the garage that he works on with Seth. Go admire it, have some man time."

He nods as if making a mental list. "On it."

"Compliment Sue's cooking."

"Of course." It's funny to see how they mirror each other as they gesture with their hands. I see Jasper's cheek twitch with amusement. It's obvious that they are going to be friends. It surprises me just how happy that makes me.

"You won't even have to lie – she's a wonderful cook. She's a feeder and loves it when people enjoy her food - eat a lot."

"No problem at all. I like to eat, so that works out well. That must be where Bella gets it from."

I look at him in confusion. "I'm not a feeder!"

He laughs and rubs me upper arm. "I meant your cooking skills."

"I've barely cooked for you – only simple things."

"Yeah, that tasted better than at a restaurant."

"Really?" The beam of pride stretches my lips in a wide smile.

"I told you – that carbonara was to die for."

I shrug. "I thought you were being nice."

"I was. But it's also true." The warmth in his eyes makes me feel special, and his hand trails down my arm to grasp my hand.

 **o0o**

It's so strange having Edward in my family home. He somehow makes it feel smaller, as silly as that may sound. Seth played it admirably cool when they met, but he took advantage of the drive to ask him questions and get some advice about Leah and Sam's house.

"I'll look at those drawings with you," Edward offered.

"That would be so cool!" I felt his excitement radiating from the back seat of the car.

"No problem. I was saying to Bella that I could help with the house."

"Would you like to see the plot?"

"Yeah, definitely. I like to see the plot to see how the design will fit in with the surroundings and make the most of the environment. You know; the view, the lighting in the rooms…"

Edward was kind and indulged his questions. I am sure he made his year. I sat back and relaxed as they chatted most of the journey. Mom's pleasure at meeting him was obvious. Dad was more reserved to begin with, but softened when he thanked Edward for letting me stay with him.

He cleared his throat. "It means a lot to me." Then he slapped him on the back and went back to being stoic. I can see the difference in my Dad since I was here last time. He walks stiffly still after his back went out, but more than that, he is pale and though he's been greying for some time, it seems more prominent now. Maybe I am looking closer now that I know that he's unwell.

It's now Saturday evening, and we're out at a restaurant in Port Angeles for Leah's birthday dinner. We're at a large table – the whole family is here – the Swan's and Uley's, as well as Leah and Sam's friends. It's great to see her so happy with Sam. Now that her worries about him straying are set aside, she's also set aside some of her hard edges. Happiness agrees with her.

"So will you come?" she asks me. She's planning a last minute spa day for tomorrow to continue the celebrations.

Her friend Rachel says animatedly, "It's such a good deal. I went with my mom a few weeks ago, and it was heaven. They do a really good facial."

"You should go," Edward chips in. "It would be nice for you to relax, spend some time with your sister." He rubs my thigh under the table and gives it a squeeze.

"See!" Leah butts in. She's three glasses of wine in, and her voice is loud. I suppress a chuckle.

"You wouldn't mind?" I ask Edward. I'm not sure how I would feel left alone with his family. Wait, I am sure that I'd be fine, as will Edward.

"Of course not. Seth and I are going out to see the plot of land anyway, right Seth?" He removes his hand to take a sip of his beer. I miss the warmth immediately. It's strange how easily I have become accustomed to his touch.

"Yeah, man." Seth's enthusiasm is clear in the set of his smile and bright eyes. I think he has a man crush.

"Well, it seems I'm not needed, so count me in." I shrug.

Edward rubs my arm. "I think it would be nice for you, that's all."

"He's right, Bella," Leah says. "After all that stuff with the murder"—she pauses to shudder—"you need some me time."

Edward raises his eyebrow and tilts his head at me. My stomach sinks. I haven't gotten around to telling him about Peter's parents. He looks at me searchingly, but the conversation at the table has already moved on and Sam's dad Josh is asking me a question. I clasp Edward's hand as if to say that I'll tell him later. His hand doesn't clasp mine in return.

It takes him all of two minutes to ask me about it when we're alone in my room later that night. I am halfway through taking the hair pins from my updo.

"What was Leah talking about – a murder?" His voice is hard and his features more so, his stare unwavering as I meet it in the mirror.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I meant to. Charlie told me some things about Peter's childhood, his family."

"What about it?" he prompts.

"His father is serving life for killing his mother." I can't meet his eye as I say this. I studiously remove each clip.

The breath leaves him in a gust and he drops to sit on the bed. "What? Why didn't you tell me?"

I pause, setting the hair clips aside, before turning to face him. "It's not that I didn't tell you; it's just that it wasn't the right time when Charlie called." I cross the room to retrieve my cosmetic bag from my luggage.

"What do you mean?"

I meet his gaze. His eyes are narrowed, and I don't like the way he's looking at me. "Charlie called to tell me the day you came back to Seattle."

He lets out another big breath and his lips balloon in a way that I would find comical in other circumstances. He twists on the bed so that he's facing me. "Bella, I need to know these things. Is this about you not trusting me? Because I left?"

"No, no," I walk towards him, but don't quite close the distance between us. "I would have told you. I didn't want to add to your burdens that day, that's all."

"Your safety isn't a burden!" He stands quickly and paces the small room.

I don't quite understand the level of his frustration. "It doesn't change anything, really."

"His father is a murderer!" He gestures widely with his hands to emphasize his point.

"It doesn't mean that _he_ is." I look down at my fidgeting fingers, searching sightlessly in the cosmetic bag. I don't even remember what it is that I wanted.

"He's stalking you." He strides to me and grabs me by the tops of my arms. His hold isn't gentle and I can tell he's resisting the urge to shake me. "Do you have any idea at all what it would do to me if you got hurt? Do you?"

"I'm not going to get hurt, Edward. It's okay. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." My voice is soothing, but it doesn't work. "Is this about the baby?"

He lets go of me quickly, and turns away. "It's not about me, Bella – it's about your safety. You need to stop being blasé about this. He has an unhealthy obsession with you, and has a history of violence against women. As does his father. This is a big deal."

My anger sparks. "I know it's a big deal! You think you need to tell me that? I know what he's capable of. The things that Charlotte has told me–" I shudder.

He turns and his hand reaches out to me, but he snatches it back and crosses his arms. "Don't you see how patronizing it is for you to try to protect me like that?"

"I wasn't protecting you. I just didn't tell you straight away."

"That was days ago now." He is trying to rein in his temper.

"It slipped my mind." I don't like the distance between us. I realize my arms are crossed in front of me too, and I can feel goosebumps on my flesh.

"Slipped your mind?" He's trying to keep his voice low, but I can see his struggle. "God, I can't take this. I'm so fucking in love with you, I can't see straight, and you don't tell me something this big!"

I start to understand his exasperation. "It wasn't like that. I wasn't hiding it from you, I swear." I take a step closer to him.

"Think of the kind of man we're dealing with here. What could happen to you! And I didn't even know." He throws his hands up, desperation entering his voice.

The silence stretches between us. Wait, did he say he loved me? I am sure that he did. Whisper-shouting it at me in anger definitely isn't how I'd imagined it being said, but I'm sure that he did. "You love me?" My voice is small. I wet my dry lips with my tongue.

His anger hasn't quite left him, and he rubs his face with his hand. "Isn't it obvious?"

"This isn't quite how I thought we'd cross that bridge." My brows draw together, and I hug myself tighter.

He lets out a big breath, and some of his anger is dispelled with it. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too." I inch closer, but am still uncertain of him.

He closes the distance between us and tentatively tucks my hair behind my ear. "I didn't want to tell you that way. Worrying over your safety is driving me crazy. I can't bear that I can't make it all better."

"It's not your job to fix things."

His hands are gentle now; almost reverent as he cups my face in his palms. "I love you, Bella. I think I always have; I just didn't know what it was." He chuckles at himself cynically. "I'm sorry if you're not ready for that," he says more seriously. His tone is flat, and holds a desolation that pricks at my eyes.

I clear my throat, and think courage, Bella. I look right into his unguarded green eyes. "I love you, too."

His face softens, and his anger disappears. He trails his thumb across my lower lip, and the heat from just a moment ago turns into a different kind of heat. He leans in to kiss me, and it is full of a feeling that can't be contained. Before I know it, I am flat on my back on the floor of my childhood bedroom, and we show each other just how much we feel.

 **o0o**

I don't know what time it is. It feels very late, but we're both awake in the darkness. Only the faint light of the moon shining through the thin curtains of my window illuminates the room. The shadows shift and sway as the breeze blows the curtains this way and that. We are in bed now; me on my side and Edward on his back with his arm around me. He traces lazy circles with his fingers on my naked back. The air is warm still and the draft from the open window is welcome.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask.

"I'm thinking about you. I'm thinking about how important you are to me." He gives me a squeeze. "I really want to get this right."

"I do, too. I'm sorry I didn't tell you," I whisper into the gloom.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper," he says gently. "I don't want you to be afraid to talk to me."

"Is that what's worrying you – that you scared me?" I tilt my head up to see him, but all I can see is his silhouette in the darkness.

He doesn't answer, but his hand stops moving. I tilt my head up to try to read his expression, but all I can see is the shadow of his profile and the glint of the moonlight in his eyes. "You should know by now that I have more fire in me than that."

He snorts. "I guess you can give as good as you get."

"I can do better than that." I poke him in the ribs and he jumps.

"I know it will take time for you to trust me, but this won't work if you can't." His voice breaks a little and my stomach plummets.

Is he right? Did I not tell him about Peter because I don't trust him? I don't think that's it. It's not like I don't trust him with my safety, but perhaps… Perhaps part of me didn't tell him because I haven't adjusted to the idea that we're in this together. I haven't gotten used to sharing my burdens, and maybe a small voice in my head told me I can't trust that he'll be there; that I can't depend on him because he might leave.

"I'm sorry if I've kept you at arm's length," I say. I look down at my hand on his chest as I say this. There is a blush in my cheeks. "I've been single for a long time – I'm not used to sharing everything." I play with the smattering of hair on his chest.

I rest my cheek on his chest now. My head rises and falls with the even movement of his breathing. I focus on the regular motion, trying to quell the fear inside. I don't know if I'm cut out for this.

"This Peter stuff is driving me crazy. I wish there was something I could do. I feel so helpless." He takes so much onto himself. I imagine that Tanya's wicked manipulation is a contributing factor to his feeling of powerlessness. He has been strangely quiet on the subject this week. Is he keeping secrets from me too?

"We need to leave it to the professionals. The alarm is fitted at my apartment now, and Jenks is collecting evidence for the harassment order. It'll be all right," I say. I am trying to convince myself, also. "You know that anything you do now will just start something bigger, and you'll end up in trouble."

He lets out a grunt. "Part of me thinks it would be worth it."

I prop myself up on my elbow. "Promise me that you won't do anything." He is silent a while. "Promise me!"

"I promise not to start anything, but I swear to God, if he starts something – I'm going to finish it." I feel his tension beneath me. Even lying in bed he is like a coiled spring.

"Edward–" I try to shake some sense into him, but my movements are futile and he barely moves.

"It's the best I can offer." He shrugs beneath me.

I sigh. "And we're arguing again."

"We're having a disagreement; it's not a fight." He strokes my hair back from my face and shifts from beneath me so that we're facing each other. He kisses me deeply and I am putty in his hands. The way he makes me feel is unlike anything I have ever known.

"Don't think you can distract me so easily," I say, but my voice is breathy and the darkness doesn't conceal my longing for him. "I don't want you to do anything drastic."

He pushes me onto my back and trails kisses down my neck; it sends shivers down my spine. "Making up is the best part of arguing." His mouth wanders down and between my breasts.

I can't see his face, but I can feel his eyes on me. He takes one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking and biting until I moan. "Don't you want to make up?"

"I thought we already had." The words leave me on a sigh. What he said appeals to me, but his mouth on me has impaired my thought processes. Our lovemaking has reached a new level – every caress speaks of a deeper intimacy, every sigh is a whisper of love. I lose myself in him entirely, forgetting my fears and doubts.

Sometime later we lay quietly in the dark, and I feel the weight of sleep descend upon me; the relaxation seeping through my whole body. Edward is wrapped all around me, and the breeze provides relief from his warmth. I've never felt quite so at peace.

 **Author's Note**

 **Thank you for reading! I really would like to hear what you think. Big thanks to the Lemonade Stand for recommending this story.**

 **I can't thank Songster enough for her editing skills and support. I need heart emojis here!**

 **Pay it Forward will be featuring three fics in three different categories on their new blog each month. Number one will be our Rookie ... A new, first-time writer showcasing their first fic on our blog. Number two will be our Encore ... A new fic from a seasoned author giving us a sneak peek. Number three will be our Classic ... one from the vault, a time-tested oldie. If you are a Rookie and need help, contact Fran on the PIF page. And if you have an Encore, contact her to get your new fic showcased. And anyone interesting in writing a summary on one of their favs, please feel free to send it in**.

 **Rhian xx**


	29. Chapter 29

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 29**

We've only been back in Seattle a couple of days when Charlie calls. "Hi, Dad. Is everything okay?" I hadn't expected to hear from him so soon.

"Hi, Bella." He pauses to clear his throat. "I have some troubling news."

God, what now? I grip my cell tightly.

"It turns out that Peter used to be a locksmith working for a company in Seattle."

"A locksmith? So he can basically let himself in anywhere?" My voice is high pitched and my breath is unsteady.

"We knew he worked for the company but not his job role until now. We thought he was a driver like he is now." I hear a door shut, and I imagine my dad closing the door to his little study and sitting at his desk. "Jenks has tracked down the existence of a closed file."

"That sounds ominous." I close the laptop in front of me. Looking up, I see Stella and Edward rough-housing in the back garden.

"He was fired from the job, and there is a sealed file about the incident. It suggests something untoward, and the company paid someone off." I can hear the strain in his voice and the ruffling of papers. Dad hasn't made it into the digital age yet. His desk will be strewn with papers and handwritten notes in the notepad he still carries. I'm not sure whether it is merely habit now, or whether he still feels that he needs it.

"What kind of incident?" I ask dubiously. The muscles of my face are drawn tight, and the tension in my head warns of a headache to come.

"We don't know yet, but they've identified a woman who's involved. Jenks is sending someone to talk with her. She's probably signed a non-disclosure agreement if there was a payoff, so she might not be chatty, but I think we can do the math."

The air leaves my lungs in a gust. Of course he's done this sort of thing before. Is tormenting Charlotte not enough for him? He needs to get additional thrills too? Surely he's some sort of sociopath. I should talk to Jasper about it. He'd have some insight in his line of work.

"So be careful, Bella. Don't go back to the apartment on your own. Don't go at all if you can help it. I know the locks were changed, but that won't stop him. The alarm might, but who knows."

God my apartment! "I'll need to go get things to pack for my trip with Renee."

"Edward will go with you, surely?"

"Yeah, course. But the idea that he's been going inside…" It's bad enough that he's been hanging around outside the apartment. Worry colors my voice and I don't like it. I don't like that he can scare me.

"I don't know, but I am damn grateful that you're staying at Edward's. I owe him one. I talked to Jenks, and we think it best that he check out the security system at Edward's too, and he has a panic alarm you can have."

"A panic alarm?"

"It's a button that alerts Jenks and his team immediately, like an SOS signal. No need to unlock a phone or dial a number. It would make me feel better."

"Okay. Sure." How is this my life?

"I'm doing better now, Bells. I could come stay with you for a while, if you'd rather be in your own apartment." He clears his throat again. "Though you and Edward seem to be…" he pauses as he searches for the right word, "serious."

"No, I'm fine here at Edward's, honestly." I don't like the thought of my dad in danger too, especially when he's been unwell. It's been a sharp shock to realize that my dad is getting older. His skin has lost its elasticity, and it looks somehow thinner on his face. I always thought my dad was invincible, but of course he's not. I shake the thought away. But aside from that, the reality is that I don't want to go home.

Garrett comes around the following evening. He is impressed with Edward's security. "The house is secure. Your main weakness is if you're leaving the door open for the dog, but I've seen that she's a good early warning system." Stella barked like mad at him earlier. Edward smirks.

"Yeah, she is," I say bending down to pet a now more docile Stella. Though I am not sure docile is the right word, even stationary and tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth, she has an energy about her.

"Good to know she doesn't like strange men wandering into the house," Garrett continues. He turns so that he's facing the rear doors that are currently open. "The wall isn't that high that it can't be scaled, but I think its presence is a good deterrent."

"Is there anything to suggest that he knows about this place?" Edward asks. His arms are folded in front of him and his brow knits into a frown.

"Not from our surveillance, which is good. We've placed him at your apartment on four occasions. There's no pattern, but enough to support the harassment order. I think Jenks is going to arrange a meeting with the lawyer shortly to compile your affidavit."

"Affidavit?" I ask. My voice is small and I try to stand straighter, ignoring the nausea in my stomach. Peter has been outside my apartment four times at least.

"Yes, that's how we initiate the order. I'll leave the details to the lawyers, but it's essentially a statement from you to petition for the order, meaning that he can't come within a certain distance of your home, your work, and the like. The evidence we have of Peter outside the apartment and waiting in the park will support it." He says this matter-of-factly. Of course, he's dealt with this sort of thing before. I should find it reassuring, but it disturbs me that there is enough of this sort of thing to keep a business afloat.

"Have you seen him enter the apartment?" I ask. Though I am not sure I want the answer. I find the idea of him inside my apartment so upsetting; it's such an invasion of my privacy. The idea of his mocking eyes roaming over my things, his violent hands touching my belongings turns my stomach and tears prick at my eyes.

"No record of him entering." He, too, folds his arms over his chest and stands with his legs wide. "Knowing what we do about his role as locksmith, I wouldn't rule out that he has been in there, but we don't know." He catches my eye, no doubt noticing the glaze of approaching tears. "At least we can rule it out since the alarm was installed."

Edward moves to stand nearer to me, and I take strength from the feel of his warmth beside me. He rests his hand on the small of my back and traces a repetitive pattern on the sliver of skin between my top and my jeans.

Garrett clears his throat and tucks his hand in his pocket, retrieving a small plastic fob with a button on it that he hands to me. I take it carefully so as not to activate it by mistake. The plastic feels warm from his body heat. It looks a little like a low-end car key remote.

He motions to the device. "Just press that button and you'll get a rapid response from our team. We'll locate you with GPS, send a team, and call the police too."

"Does it make a noise?" I ask as it finger the fob, familiarizing myself with the feel of it in my hand. Should I have it in my pocket? Or put it on my keys? It would look just like a keyring.

"No, not at your end. It's discreet so you can call for help without alerting an assailant." An assailant; as in Peter showing up. I feel sick; the nausea has been snowballing in my stomach to the point where I feel like I could actually vomit. I inhale a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Press it for a test," he urges. His eyes are open and his manner businesslike.

I oblige and his phone emits a loud noise; it's a negative sound, like a warning siren. "Perfect," he says. "It gives me an alert from you and your GPS location, see?" He shows me the message on the screen.

"All very high tech." I can muster no enthusiasm.

"I'll set up the forward on when I get to my laptop, so try not to have an emergency in the next hour or so." I think I see a glimmer of a smile, but his attempts to lighten the mood are lost on me. He grabs his bag ready to leave. Edward sees him to the door, and I head out onto the back deck, emergency fob thingy still in hand.

I hear Edward moving about in the kitchen and Stella's nails clipping against the floorboards as she follows him around no doubt. I stay sitting out on the deck. The sky is dull with great big gray rain clouds gathering on the horizon, and I can feel the moisture in the air, but it's not cold. I imagine the light wind, which is tousling my hair, blowing my problems away.

Edward sits down next to me and hands me a heavy tumbler full of an amber liquid. I take a large gulp, and though I don't like the taste, I enjoy the warmth of it travelling down to my stomach. He doesn't say anything and neither do I. He takes my hand, and we sit quietly in the garden, drinking what I assume is whiskey or scotch, and slowly the fear recedes and the knot in my stomach loosens. I lean my head on Edward's shoulder, and slowly I turn to kiss his neck. And that is how we christened the deck.

 **o0o**

"You know, despite everything, I think these last few weeks have been some of the best of my life," Edward says slowly twirling his finger in my hair. "There is no-where I would rather be."

I share his sentiment entirely. It's my birthday on Wednesday, and Edward and I are spending some quality time together today. We are in the meadow, or should I say _our_ meadow, as that's how I've come to think of it.

The peace here is like nowhere else on earth. I hear the twitter of birds above us, the sound of the breeze swaying the leaves of the trees overhead, the sound of the stream rushing nearby, Edward's heart beating beneath my ear, and absolutely nothing else. The sky above us is blue, and the sun shines brightly with barely a cloud in sight. The sun is warm on my skin, and the fresh fragrance of the outdoors makes me feel renewed.

It has been a difficult few weeks. Edward is adjusting to the heartbreak of Tanya's deceit. He's not been particularly talkative about it, but I've noticed moments where he is quiet and seems a million miles away in his thoughts, and I assume he's thinking about Ethan. I don't know what Tanya has called the baby boy – surprisingly, she hasn't called or texted as Edward had expected – but I've come to think of him as Ethan; the name Edward preferred. I hope that she's realized the magnitude of her actions and will let him move on.

I haven't pushed Edward to talk about it; people deal with things in their own way, and he knows that I am here if he wants to talk. Mostly, he's been focusing on the future and establishing himself in Seattle, while cutting ties in L.A. The house is on the market, and Edward has a lawyer in L.A. to communicate with Tanya and deal with the sale. He said she had enough equity in the house and enough of her own money to get a new place – even now, he doesn't want to do wrong by her. I think he is an exceptional human being.

The specter of Peter looming around every corner is finally dissipating. Jenks applied to the court for a civil harassment order. It's essentially a restraining order. You hear about them in movies and you think you know what they are, but I didn't realize that a restraining order is only used for a family or household member, and deal with domestic violence as well as property and custody issues – color me educated. A civil harassment order is the one used for stranger stalking type cases. Well, that's the case in Washington State anyway.

I had to provide information for and sign an affidavit, and Jenks submitted his surveillance evidence to court – careful to show that it was surveillance of me and my apartment with my consent, rather than the illegal following of Peter. They really do know what they're doing. The best part is that though Peter was served with papers, he didn't show up for the court hearing to contest it. The order was rubber stamped by the court. Even better, Peter seems to be abiding by it. It is merely a piece of paper, but there are criminal consequences for contempt of court, including jail time, if Peter violates it, and it has seemingly been a good deterrent. It is such a relief, though in the end it almost seemed too easy. Jenks and his team are still checking in now and then to be certain, and I still carry the panic alarm – it is a heaviness in my purse that has nothing to do with its physical weight.

But in this moment, surrounded by the perfection of nature in Edward's company, everything feels safe and full of possibility. "Me neither," I say holding him closer. "This was the best gift ever. Thank you."

"This isn't your gift. It's just a day out. I thought you would like to come back here." He continues to play with my hair as he talks.

"You're right. I'm glad you shared this place with me."

"Me, too. I think of it as ours now." He clears his throat and pauses a moment as if deciding what to say. "I came here before when we were apart. I had hoped to clear my head, but deep down, I really wanted to remember that day that we had here. Being here without you was painful. Nothing was as pretty; there was no respite from my sad thoughts, even the weather turned against me, and I got soaked on the way back to the car." I raise myself so that I am leaning on my arms on his chest and I can see his face. "I only brought you here once, but this is more your meadow than it is mine now. I don't want it without you."

I lean down to kiss him, and we are lost in the moment. I have never felt more alive than when he touches me. His effect on me is terrifying; my body reacts to him of its own volition. My heart races in my chest and my breath comes quickly; my nerves tingle and molten desire courses through me. I think that this must not be good for me, but I jump of that cliff time and again like some maddened adrenaline junky. Is this what love feels like?

It's like a dream being here with Edward. It's like nothing bad can touch us. "I can't tell you how happy I am," I say.

"I'm glad. Do you want your gift now?"

"I'm allowed it early?" I feel like a little kid at Christmas.

"If you want it."

"I do!"

He sits up and reaches into his pocket to bring out a small rectangular shaped box. I recognize the Tiffany color straight away. My heart flutters.

"Happy Birthday," he says, and passes me the box.

It is wrapped with a white ribbon that I slowly untie to draw out the moment. "You didn't need to do this."

"I know. But I wanted to. Go on, open it," he says and gestures to the parcel with a nod of his head. His face is expectant.

I open the box to see a beautiful delicate necklace.

"I know you already have a pearl necklace," he says as I stare at it in wonder. "But I figured since you can't find it, I'd get you a new one."

I finger the pearl and its antique-style setting.

"Do you like it?" He sounds a little worried, and I realize I haven't said anything.

"It's beautiful, Edward. Thank you so much. I don't think I've ever owned anything so pretty." I can't take my eyes from it for a moment. When I do look up, a big smile breaks out on his handsome face, and he reaches for the box.

I snatch it away, and hide it behind my back. "You don't get to take it back!"

He reaches for me, tickles my side and takes it from me easily.

"No fair!"

He plants a kiss on my nose as he does it. "I want to help you put it on."

I turn my back to him, and hold my hair out of the way. He hooks the clasp shut and places the chain against my neck. His fingers trail along the necklace, and shivers run down my spine. He drops a kiss at the base of my neck, and I am thinking devilish things. I'm not really into public displays of affection, but there's no one here, we haven't seen anyone all day, even as we made our way through the forest. I find myself sitting in his lap, my legs wound around his waist and we make out in the meadow.

What seems like a long time later Edward starts unpacking his bag. He's brought us lunch again and we eat spread out on a picnic blanket on the ground.

"How are you feeling about the offices now?" He has two to pick from and is having trouble deciding.

"I think I'm going to go with the one on Union Street. I think you're right about it being more in tune with the business."

"I liked the reception for the building there. I think it would create a good impression before they even get to your office area."

"Yeah, its high end, but I don't want to isolate regular families either. I want to do some residential work."

"Maybe you can appeal to some of the business contacts on a personal level if you have the right displays in the office? Then there is word of mouth. Did you speak to the website guy?"

"Yeah, he's building a test site. I want it to have a different feel from the current one."

"Very exciting!" I dunk a cracker in some humus. "Have you decided about the receptionist?"

"I'm not sure." He looks uncomfortable like he doesn't want to tell me. "I am leaning towards Jane, I think." He hunches his shoulders.

"Yeah? How come?" I ask when I've finished my cracker.

"Her experience, and the way she can put you at ease. Alec struck me as not so gracious a host, and I really want my clients to feel cared for."

"It's very important. People forget that the most important thing about hospitality is the way you make people feel. And she has the right credentials?"

"Definitely."

"Then the decision is made." I take another bite of my cracker. "Why do you look all sheepish? What aren't you saying?"

"Oh it's nothing. You're right." He takes a sip of water and takes more time screwing the lid back on than it warrants.

A long ago memory flits into my mind about Tanya getting jealous if he worked with women. "Edward, you do know that I have no problem whatsoever with you hiring a woman, right?"

His eyes dart quickly to mine and tighten. His frown creates a groove in between his eyebrows. "I do know that. I'm sorry. Reflex I guess." He shrugs and shakes his head.

"Do you need any help with the set up? I'm no architect, but I could help out with something."

"I'd really like that. You have a good eye, and you can make a space seem more homely than I can." His posture relaxes a little, and I think his mind is dwelling on sadder times.

"I'd love to," I say and run his arm. "Are you okay? Do you want to talk about the baby?"

His eyes tighten again, but now he is squinting against the sun. It is the set of his jaw that shows his discomfort. I trail my hand down his arm and clutch at his hand.

"I have no baby," he says after a while. "I never wanted a child with Tanya. I never really lost anything." He sounds matter of fact, but also like he is trying to convince himself.

"It's okay to be sad," I offer, giving his hand a squeeze.

His face clears some. "I know." His hand goes to my face. He caresses it gently and the love I see on his face chases his demons away. "I have you. That's all that matters." He kisses my forehead almost reverentially before sitting back on his heels.

"Ready for dessert?" he asks a devilish gleam in his eye now. I nod and he reaches back into his backpack and brandishes a clear Tupperware container with a cupcake inside. He opens the lid and sticks a small candle in the top and lights it. My cheeks ache from the smile on my face.

"Make a wish," he says. I close my eyes, make a wish, and blow the flame out.

"I want to draw you like that," he says. "Will you let me?"

"You brought a sketch pad?"

"Yeah. I want to draw you here." He's already reaching for his supplies. Boy Scout.

"Okay. Just don't go getting any ideas. We're not on the Titanic, you know." I fight a smile.

He laughs. "It'll happen one day."

"No way."

"Not out in the open, no, but what about you naked in my bed? We could have a strategically placed sheet if you're pretending to be shy." That devilish gleam brightens his green eyes.

"Pretending?"

"I've been with you in bed, love. There is nothing shy about you. And you're glorious naked."

I raise my eyebrows and purse my lips. "Why do I have the feeling that something of that nature might already exist?"

He declines to answer and tells me how to pose. He's evidently changed his mind about my blowing the candle out, because I am sitting with my knees bent before me and my arms resting on top of them.

He moves away from me and settles himself on a nearby tree root. "Look at me and think about what you want to do to me next time _I'm_ naked."

He likes his games, for sure. There is something unspeakably intimate about this, even though we're both fully clothed and feet apart. We are quiet as he draws. I take his instructions seriously and my mind wanders to sensual places. I think about riding him until he comes undone. There is little that I like better than watching him come; that rush of euphoria as he feels the orgasm coming, a split second of stillness, then his body convulsing in pleasure. It's such a thrill to have all that muscular power, pliable and bending to my will. My nerves hum at the thought, and I am sure he sees what he was looking for in my eyes.

After what feels like a long while, he snaps the pad shut and says, "That'll do for today. I got the outline I wanted. I'll finish it another time."

"Can I see?"

"I'll show it to you when it's done."

"Spoil sport! You do know it's my birthday right?" I poke him in the side and he jumps. "Oh, I think I have found a weakness!" I go to tickle him in the same spot on his side but he blocks me with his arm.

"It's not your birthday until Wednesday." He smirks at me. "Now, let's do something about that look in your eye." The thrill in my nerves intensifies, and I feel like a teenager rather than a woman about to turn thirty as we round a few bases amongst wild flowers under blue skies.

 **o0o**

Edward wants to make me breakfast in bed before work on Wednesday. He said that if I was going to work on my birthday I should at least eat well, and who I am to object?

He sets the tray on my lap, and leans over to kiss me. "Bon appétit," he says with what sounds to me like a perfect French accent.

"Do you speak French?"

He shrugs. "Some." I think he's being modest. "Maybe we should go to Paris sometime?" His eyes gleam at the thought.

"You know how I feel about travel." I am up for pretty much anything as long as it involves a proper bed and doesn't involve creepy crawlers.

"Happy Birthday," he says handing me a stack of cards he had wedged under his arm.

"Thanks." I set them on the bed as I take a sip of my tea. My tray is adorned with a purple anemone that I recognize from the garden, and reminds me of the meadow. It makes me smile. I finger the paper-thin petals and luxuriate in their softness. I have scrambled eggs and bacon with a side of pancakes.

"This is really lovely, Edward. I don't think I've ever had breakfast made for me in bed."

"I'm happy to be your first." He winks at me with a devilish smile.

"Are you not eating?" I query as I spoon a helping of maple syrup onto my pancakes.

"I'll grab something later." His eyes watch me, and there is something unaccountably intimate about him watching me eat.

I open some cards in between mouthfuls. There is one from my parents, and something falls from inside. There is another envelope that Edward picks up and passes to me. I read the card then open the other envelope. Inside are two tickets for the General Jackson Showboat in Nashville. "Oh," I squeal. "This is the old steamboat that I wanted to go on!" There are two tickets for me and Renee. We have the cruise, a dinner, and a show. Sue knows me so well.

Renee said we'd celebrate on our vacation, but there is a card from her, too. I recognize the Florida post mark and open that one next. I have a nice little pile. We went around to my apartment to pick up my mail last night as well as what I'll need for my trip. It was unnerving being in my once treasured space and feeling on edge and uncomfortable in a space I used to think of as my home. I could see no evidence of an intruder, but I guess that I wouldn't. I remember that day that my bed was turned down and shudder. Had Peter been there? Or had I moved it without realizing it?

I shake the unsettling thought from my mind. Home is where your heart is, and my heart is with my family, friends, and Edward. It's not bricks and mortar.

I finish my breakfast and get ready for work. Edward kisses me deeply at the door before I leave. The drive is pleasant. The sky is blue and there are, unusually, few clouds in the sky. When I arrive at work there is a bunch of lilies on my desk and a bottle of prosecco with a card resting against it. Charlotte and Jessica both watch me expectantly from their desks. "Aw, thank you," I say. "This is so kind."

"It's from all of us," Jess says. "Happy Birthday!"

"But you two did the organizing, right?"

"We did," says Charlotte. Her eyes smile in a way I don't see often. "So tell us – what did you get?"

I tell them about my tickets from my parents, and that I'm having a dinner party with my friends on Saturday. I tell them about the meadow, and show them my necklace from Edward.

"It's beautiful, Bella," Charlotte says.

"Is it Tiffany?" Jessica asks.

I nod, and she whistles in appreciation. "You did good there, girl!"

"Well, I can't find my pearl necklace anywhere, and he knew about it, so he replaced it. Little does he know, the other wasn't nearly so valuable." I open the card as I speak.

"Sounds like a lovely day," Jess says as she turns back to her computer screen.

"It was. It was lovely." I look up to see Charlotte frozen in place. The color has drained from her already pale face, and her eyes are hollow somehow. "Charlotte, are you okay?" She doesn't react. I repeat myself, and she wakes as if from a trance.

"You know, I suddenly don't feel very well. I think that I should go home." She clears her throat. There is a hollowness to her voice, too. "I'm sorry to do this. I hope I'll be better tomorrow."

"Me too, you take care."

Jess has turned back around and rubs her arm. "Do you want me to help you home?" Jess lives in the same direction so often gives Charlotte a ride home after work.

"Thanks. No, no. I'll be okay."

"Are you sure?" I ask. "You don't look yourself."

"Yes. I better go." She gathers her things, and I notice her hands shake.

"You give me a call if you're not better tomorrow."

"Yes, yes," she says clutching the lapels of her jacket.

"Are you sure you're okay to get home?"

"I'll be fine."

She seems okay on her feet as she walks swiftly to the stairs. I wonder what changed so quickly. She seemed fine just a moment ago.

Jess wheels her chair so that it's nearer me. "Is it just me or was that super weird?"

"It seemed like something was off to me."

Her eyes narrow. "That jerk. No doubt." She huffs and turns back to work.

The day flies by and I look forward to spending the evening with Edward. We have planned to relax and get take out. I am glad that the sun still shines – I want to eat in the garden. I really need to get back into running, I am sure I must have put weight on these past few weeks. But not tonight; tonight it's my birthday, and I have very different exercise plans in mind, and perhaps a nice long soak in the tub afterwards. I put my foot down to get home a little faster.

 **Author's Note**

 **Thank you so much for reading this story. If you're finding it interesting please leave me review and share your thoughts.**

 **I can't thank Songster enough for her editing skills. Particularly for sorting out my awful comma usage!**

 **Rhian xx**


	30. Chapter 30

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 30**

Jessica is already at her desk when I arrive at work. She turns to see me. "Morning."

"Morning, Jess." I put my purse down on my desk.

"Have you heard anything from Charlotte?"

I reach into my purse for my phone. "I hadn't before I left, let me check. It's still early though, she might be in yet."

"I was just a little worried. I texted her last night and she didn't reply. She usually replies."

I see there are no messages on my phone, and purse my lips. I look at the time – it's only eight-thirty. She doesn't usually come in until around nine. "I'll give her a call if she's not here by nine-thirty." We exchange a look that requires no words. We both know what worries us.

I start up my computer, but my mind is on Charlotte. Is she sick or did she not reply because of something Peter has done? She told me she was planning to leave again – what if he found out?

That hour takes forever to pass. I clear some emails, but my eyes flick to the clock on my screen at least ten times. I've heard nothing by nine-thirty and she's not here, so I give her a call. It goes to voicemail, and I leave a message asking her to call me.

When I've heard nothing by lunch time, I start to worry. I tell myself she's sick and has slept in. I tell myself perhaps there is something wrong with her phone, and she can't get in touch. But I worry anyway. It's like a lose thread that I can't help but tug, though it does me no good.

"Jess, have you heard from Charlotte?" I ask her at about four.

She shakes her head. "Not a peep." She turns in her chair to better see me. "Do you think I should check in on her on my way home?"

"I was thinking of doing the same, but I don't want to run in Peter." The thought is an unsettling one.

"Same." She winces a little.

I move closer so that we're not talking over my desk. "Do you think we should go together?"

She sighs in relief. "It would make me feel better, I think. It's not like her not to call."

So when the day is done we both drive to Charlotte's place. I know it might be a bit much, but just want to check she's okay. I hope Peter won't be in, given his shift work, but I do feel as if I'm doing something stupid as I pull up outside.

There is no main door and buzzer system. They are individual apartments, but they have outside access to each. It's an old eighties concrete construction with open air walkways to the apartments. I checked Charlotte's HR file and know that she lives at apartment 38. We follow the signage to find the door and see that she's on the first floor.

"Have you tried calling her again?" Jessica asks.

"Three times."

Her face is grim and I imagine mine is a similar. "I don't like this. I texted her again and nothing."

"It could just be something wrong with her phone, and she isn't well enough to get to a pay phone." I shrug, but at this point I am not buying it. I dearly hope that I am wrong. As we walk, I think that I probably should have phoned Jenks – this isn't my smartest idea. But it's too late now; there is no point in delaying, and why shouldn't I be free to roam where I will? I have done nothing wrong.

"She could have sent an email to work."

"Maybe she's not well enough to think it through."

"Thing is though, it's weird how she left yesterday, right? I didn't think she was poorly. I thought perhaps something had happened."

We reach the door and I press the bell. My heart is racing, and I take two steps back from the door. Jess has said she'll do the talking if it's Peter that answers, bless her. It's not that I'm afraid to talk to him, but I don't want to stir things up when he's been abiding by the order. I just want to know that Charlotte is okay.

There is no answer and Jess leans forward to knock on the door. It opens slightly ajar with her movement. We exchange a quick sideways glance. Jess pushes the door further open and calls into the apartment, "Charlotte, are you there? It's Jess. I just wanted to check in on you."

There is silence in response. We look at each other silently debating whether to go in. Jess steps in, and I pass her as she holds open the door.

"Charlotte are you here?" I call from inside the open plan kitchen-living space. Still no answer. I look around and the place is a mess. There are broken pieces of blue pottery on the floor. Perhaps it used to be a vase. I see a chair turned over as I walk deeper into the apartment. "A break in?"

Jess still stands by the door. "The lock looks fine. I just think it didn't quite connect when it was shut." She moves to test the lock with her hand.

"Best not to touch anything, just in case," I say quickly before her hand connects. "Can you try her phone?"

I walk further into the apartment and call out again. It's just more silence that greets me. Jess pulls out her phone. We are both startled by a voice at the door. Tension is running high and I jump out of my skin at the interruption. Thankfully, it isn't Peter. It's an older lady. She walks with a stick and hunches over it in what looks to me to be a painful position. "Is she not in then?" she asks.

"She's not answering, but the door was open," Jessica answers.

"There was a hell of a ruckus here last night – even louder than usual." She shakes her head in dismay.

"What kind of ruckus?" I ask.

"Shouting, loud thuds, things smashing." She motions to disarray of the room around us in explanation. "Figures."

"Did you call the police?" Jess asks. Her voice is high-pitched.

"The first three or four times," she answers sagely, "but nothing changed, and she didn't thank me for it. She said it made him more angry, so I stopped." She shrugs, but I see the worry in her expression. "I rang the bell this morning to check on her, but no answer. I figured she went to work."

The hairs on the back of my neck stand erect, and I walk further into the apartment. Something is very wrong here.

"It's a crying shame," she says. "She has her whole life ahead of her, and she's with that no good piece of shit." She shuffles laboriously further into the apartment. "Do you girls work with her then?"

"Yeah, we do," Jess answers.

I make my way further into the apartment. I am just passing by the side- table when I spot it; a smear of blood on the lightly stained wood. My heart goes into overdrive. I would swear it is in my throat. I quicken my pace and walk towards the hallway at the back of the apartment. I presume it leads to the bedroom.

I see her before I get there. There is a bare pale foot peaking from behind the sofa. I round the sofa quickly and there she is – lifeless on the ground. I have never seen anything like it.

She is splayed at a strange angle on her side. Her leg certainly doesn't look right. She wears the clothes she was wearing when she left work yesterday. They are torn and stained with blood. It's a shocking color against the white of her blouse. It's not the bright red color of freshly-spilled blood, but the dark crimson, almost brown stain of dried blood. The smell of rust fills my nose and mouth and almost overwhelms me.

Her face is the most shocking sight. I don't think I would know it was Charlotte were I not in her home. Perhaps I would recognize her short blonde hair, as matted as it is. One of her eyes is completely swollen shut. It's a frightening purplish-blue. As is the side of her jaw that I can see.

I know she's alive. I can see a bubble of blood move and inflate at the corner of her mouth as she breathes. Mere seconds have passed as I take in this terrible sight. "Call an ambulance," I say.

I kneel by her side. "Charlotte, can you hear me?" She doesn't answer, but I do see her lips move. She adjusts her position a little and emits a slow groan. "It's Bella and Jess," I say. "We're here now. You're going to be fine." She stills, but I don't know if this is because my words have comforted her, or if she has sunk back into unconsciousness.

I reach to check her pulse. I know it will be there, but I want to see if it's strong. My heart is beating so fast, and I hear it so loudly in my ears, that I'm not sure I will be able to tell if her pulse is at a normal pace or not. I take a deep breath and try to center myself. I shake my hand and try again. I ignore the slimy feeling of blood on my fingers. I find her pulse. It is weak but fast, I would say. I don't know what that means, other than that she's alive and I knew that already.

I think back to the first aid classes in high school and things that Charlie has said. I think she should be in the recovery position, but I am scared to move her with her injuries. What if I make something worse? Her airway seems clear and any blood-loss happened a long time ago, I think.

Jess is talking on her phone now. She pauses to ask me. "Is she breathing?"

"Yes." I notice she doesn't come to look. I can understand her reluctance. When I take my fingers away, they are coated in blood.

The old lady has taken a few steps closer to see what I see. "Poor love," she says. She looks pale and I notice her age even more now. She is shrunken in her skin.

"Maybe you should sit down?" I suggest. She nods absently and sits on a chair not far away.

"Can they give me any advice, Jess? She's not responsive, but she did move a bit."

"Is she is a safe position?" she asks and shrugs as I'm sure she has about as much idea as me about these things – very little.

"I think so. I'm scared to move her. I think her leg is broken." I look over her again and now notice a small pool of blood on the floor by her head. "I think she has a head injury." Instinctively, I want to put pressure on it, but it must be the side of her head closest to the floor and I don't want to move her.

Jess walks over and hands me the phone. I take it and talk to the operator. I tell him what I can see. What I think has happened. He tells me to sit tight – the ambulance is only five minutes away. I can't help her. I don't know enough. At least she's breathing. She's a fighter.

It's the longest five minutes of my life. I hand the phone back to Jess. She stays on the line with the guy. I can't remember what he said his name was.

The old woman mutters away to herself. I don't listen. I watch Charlotte. I watch the bubble of blood and am heartened by its regularity. I check her pulse every few seconds. I feel so very pointless. I hold her hand. I'm not sure she is sensible of it, but I talk to her in low tones. I tell her help is on the way. I tell her it will be okay. I hope to God that it will.

The paramedics arrive, and I move out of their way. Everything seems to happen quickly. I partake in the scene, but my senses are overwhelmed by it. I help drag the sofa out so they have more room to maneuver, and the sound of the legs grating on the floor pierces my eardrums.

I stand far back so I can't see what they do. They talk about her injuries. Their voices are loud in the small space, and they too think she has a broken leg and a head injury. They talk some about internal injuries, and I stand there frozen in fear.

Time bubbles, and I lose touch with it. The voices in the room become distorted, and my knees are weak. I sit on the sofa a moment. I think I might be in shock. My breathing is loud in my ears.

I do notice when the police arrive. They survey the scene, and Jess tells them about Peter. They go into the bedroom, and I go back to worrying about Charlotte. My phone rings startling me and I jump. I fumble in my bag unable to find it. The shrill happy tone of my cell is so out of place that my nerves rebel against the sound. I answer it without looking who it is. I place it to my ear, but I am not sure if I've said hello.

"Hi Bella, just wondering if you're working late?" It's Edward. What time is it? He must be worried.

"No."

"Are you okay?" I hear the worry creep into his voice.

"Um, not really." How can I explain this sickening surreal scene that I am in?

"What's wrong?"

"I think I'm going to the hospital." Wrong thing to say. My mouth is trying to form my thoughts, to explain better, but I can't.

"What's wrong?" The urgency of his voice reaches me.

"It's not me. It's Charlotte. She didn't call in sick so we checked on her." My eyes fall on her feet peeking out at the end of the sofa.

"Where are you now?" I can hear him rushing about. Doors banking, the sound of his car keys as they jangle in the bowl that he keeps them in by the front door.

"At her apartment."

"Is it safe? Where is Peter?"

"Gone. The police are here." The old lady rubs my arm. I should find out her name.

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"What happened, Bella?"

"She's not too good. She's alive. Alive," I emphasize the word, strangely conscious of the shape of my mouth and my tongue. "I knew she was breathing, I saw the bubble."

"What hospital are they taking her to?"

"I don't know."

"Ask!"

"They're treating her. I don't want to interrupt."

He says something else, but I'm not following. Charlotte makes a loud noise of pain. I think they are splinting her leg.

"Bella, can you hear me?"

I drag myself away from Charlotte's pain. "Yes." My voice is weak, I note.

"I'm going to call you back in ten minutes. Find out where they're going. I'll meet you there."

"Okay."

"Get a drink. Put some sugar in water."

"What?" I am confused.

"I think you need sugar. I think you might be in shock."

"Yeah," I agree. I look at the sink the other side of the room. I can't quite find the strength to stand.

He ends the call and I look around the room. Where is Jess? The police come from the back of the apartment. They're deep in conversation, but I can't hear what they say until they reach the middle of the room. "Beat her up and bolted," the taller one says.

"Maybe he thought she was dead. Looks like he packed a bag."

"He won't be back any time soon."

"Do you know where my friend is?" I ask.

"I think she went out for some air, darling. Are you okay?"

"I think so."

"Can we call someone for you?" His voice is kind.

"I want to go to the hospital with her."

"Sure thing. We'll make sure your friend gets home safe," says the shorter one. I can't quite make out their faces.

"Thanks," I mumble.

I lose touch with time once more as I ride in the back of the ambulance to the hospital. Edward has called and will meet me there.

 **o0o**

It's almost midnight by the time we get home. The fretful hours of waiting in the hospital have taken their toll and I am ready to collapse into bed.

Charlotte is critical but stable. When we left, she was waiting for a bed in the ICU. They're going to monitor her overnight. She has a broken leg, like I thought. She has had surgery for internal damage from blows to her abdomen. But they're most worried about her head injury from what I can gather. I don't think they operated on her brain, though I'm not entirely sure. They talked about CT's and some jargon I didn't quite follow. But the doctor said a lot about monitoring her brain injury – there is some swelling that is apparently common after a trauma, but it can be very serious. They're giving her drugs to keep her asleep and give her body the time it needs to heal itself.

After Edward arrived and forced me to eat half a sandwich and drink a can of Mountain Dew, I came to myself some, though the weight sat uncomfortably in my stomach. The police arrived shortly afterwards and asked me questions. I told them all I know and gave them my phone number. They asked me about next of kin, and I told them I only knew about Peter. I told them about her mother somewhere in Tennessee, but that I don't believe they're on good terms. I have no contact details in any case. That's why the doctors would talk to me about her condition. She has no one else and I came in with her. How can this be? How cruel the world is, for her to have no one but me.

With Edward there to help organize me, I called home to check in. Dad is going to call Jenks. I called Victoria to let her know what happened and that I might not be in work tomorrow. It's utterly bizarre to me how my usually organized and sensible self deteriorated with the shock. I have countless times screamed at the TV when some hapless character has failed to function in a movie. Now I get it.

Edward enfolds me in his embrace when we climb into bed. His arm around me is solid and so very welcome. "I don't know what I would have done without you tonight. Thank you."

Stella whines as she climbs on the bed in front of me. She nuzzles me with her nose. She knows something is wrong. I scratch behind her ear and lie by telling her I'm alright.

"You would have been fine. But I'm glad I could help." Some moments pass in the darkness before he says, "I was so worried when you said you were going to the hospital." He lets out a long breath, and it tickles some as it blows my hair on my neck. "You weren't making much sense, you know. A million things went through my mind right then. I think I aged ten years." He hugs me tight to him. "I can't tell you how glad I am that you're safe. I can't be without you."

We fall to sleep like this; Edward holding me tight from behind, his head touching mine on the pillow. I can't say that it's restful. There are pictures in my mind that disturb me – stains of blood and dark bruises, Charlotte's small form on the floor, her leg at such a wrong angle. I don't think I will ever forget that sight, or that fear.

But I feel Edward's warm and solid presence at my back each time I wake, and I know that though the world may go to hell and bad things will happen, I will be okay.

 **Author's Note**

 **Wah! Thanks so much for reading. I would love to hear your thoughts.**

 **A huge thank you to Songster as always for being the best editor a girl could have!**

 **Rhian xx**


	31. Chapter 31

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 31**

I wake with a start. I am pinned down by a weight on top of me. I think I was dreaming, but I can't quite latch onto the memory. Am I still dreaming? My face is wet. Ew, wait, it's not just wet – it's slobbery.

"Stella, no!" Edward whispers urgently. The weight shifts from me, and I can move.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he says. "Go back to sleep." He pulls on some checked pajama bottoms, awkwardly keeping Stella at bay with one arm and his knee – the ghost of a smile twitches at my lips.

"It's okay. Let her go." He does and she bounds on the bed. "No licking," I admonish. I don't think there is any more sleep for me. I feel tired to the bone, but I know I won't be able to get back to sleep. "What time is it?"

"Eight-thirty." He gestures with his hand. "Stella, come." His hair is a glorious mess on top his head, and his pajama bottoms sit just so on his hips. I don't know why I find him so attractive in pajamas. Maybe it's coupled with the fact he's not put a top on.

In the safety of this room with two of my favorite people (yes, I consider Stella to be people), I could almost pretend like yesterday never happened. But my head is sore, my stomach churns, and flashes of Charlotte's broken body fill my mind when I close my eyes, as well as a once beloved pearl necklace.

"Put the kettle on," I say as I slip into the bathroom.

I call the hospital at nine. There is no real news. She's in a coma after all. Her stats are stable. They're going to take her for another CT today to monitor the swelling in her brain.

I'll go see her this morning. She might not know I am there, but she needs someone. Edward makes us breakfast, and I make a concerted effort to eat. My body doesn't really want the food, but I remember the difference it made after I ate yesterday. I persevere, chewing mechanically, though I taste nothing.

There is a jarring juxtaposition between this morning and last night that I can't quite get my head around. Surely things don't just go back to normal after such an awful thing?

I go out onto the back deck. There is the feel of rain in the air, and the sky is grey, but I don't mind. It is the fresh air that I seek, and I pull in a large lungful. I can practically taste the salt of the Puget Sound on my tongue.

Stella follows me, and her nails clatter on the decking briefly before she jumps down onto the grass. I watch her as she sniffs around a while, then plants her butt unceremoniously on the ground, and settles in for a good scratch. I see fibers of her fur leave her and rise into the air, floating like dandelion seeds. It makes me smile for a reason I can't discern. I guess she just makes me smile.

I sit and think for a while. It is peaceful in this back yard, even if my thoughts are a whirl. I don't know how to process what I saw last night. I can't correlate it with my life.

What happened? I mean, I know what happened – that's obvious. But what was the trigger? Charlotte did say she was planning to leave. Did Peter find something that indicated that?

I have an awful feeling it might be something to do with me. Finding my necklace was too much. Is that why she went home? She left quite soon after I talked about my birthday gifts. Had she put two and two together and gone home to confront him? Had he given it to her as a gift? I shudder, and it has nothing to do with the temperature, though it is on the chilly side. I wrap my arms around myself.

The other scary thing is that it confirms that Peter has been inside my apartment. I taste steel in my mouth, and I swallow against a lump in my throat. How often had he been there? Had he been there? What had he done in there apart from taking my necklace? I just thought I'd misplaced it, and it would turn up. How stupid of me – how naive.

Images of Charlotte, lying on the floor of her apartment, flash in front of my eyes. I'm the lucky one. What brutal force it would have taken for her to end up like that. What pain she must have been in. I think it must have happened yesterday as she was wearing the same work clothes. Had she been like that all night and all day, alone? Better to be alone than have Peter there, I suppose. She could have died! I can see Peter's large and angry form hurting her in unspeakable ways. My throat feels strangled.

An even more frightening thought is where is Peter, and what is he thinking? Do I need to worry for myself as well as for Charlotte?

Dad texted this morning to say that he's put Jenks in touch with the police working on the case. Some of their surveillance might help find him. There is no word on his whereabouts at the moment, though.

I scan the walls of the back yard. They are high, but not too high to be scaled. I have the unfathomable feeling of being watched, though I know I am just scaring myself. Large drops of rain start to fall, and I watch the round spots they make on the deck as the wood darkens with moisture. I better go in.

 **o0o**

I settle into a routine quite quickly. The first couple of days were erratic with police statements and my fingerprints taken to rule out my prints in the apartment. The ink was sticky and very hard to scrub off. But then I go back to work and the routine of daily life draws me back in.

I go to visit Charlotte after work. She's still in a coma in ICU. At first, the whir of the breathing machine put me on edge, as did the clinical surroundings. But it's gone now. They kept her in an induced coma for a few days. They did a lot of tests. Her pupils react to light, and her eyes react to irritation – all signs that she is in there somewhere. They reduced sedation and withdrew her ventilator. She can breathe on her own, which was a tremendous relief, but she didn't wake up. It's been almost a week now.

At first, I tried to talk to her, to tell her about my day, but it seemed hollow and I felt silly. Now I read to her. I found a lending library bookshelf in the cafe downstairs. I'm reading a book by Lisa Kleypas to her. It has an awful cover, and is called Sugar Daddy, which meant I almost didn't pick it up. But everything else was Stephen King or Harlequin romance. I expect it to be awful, but actually it's very good with an admirable female lead.

The beeping of the monitor is the opposite of peaceful, but its regular rhythm tells me she is okay. I can read the top line that spikes and troughs with her heartbeat, but I don't know what the others indicate.

I close the book and look at Charlotte. The swelling on her face has gone down and her bruises are fading. She is healing before my eyes. I hope that her brain will do the same. I didn't follow exactly what the doctors were saying, but in layman terms, her brain swelled after her injury, so they put her in an induced coma to allow her brain time to heal itself. They're no longer worried about her internal injuries in her abdomen. I take heart from that.

"The police have been talking to a girl called Heidi," I tell her. "Did you know about her? Do you know he's done this before?" Her eyes twitch, and I want to think she's listening, but I know it's involuntary. Jenks talked to Heidi and despite the payout from the locksmith company, she talked to him. Knowing what Peter did to Charlotte, meant that she wanted to help.

"Peter changed the locks on her apartment when he was a locksmith. I think he became… obsessed." He started showing up in places she went to, inventing reasons to show up at her apartment. It got nasty and she complained to the company. She took the money rather than involve the police, and Peter lost his job. Part of me wants to talk to her – someone who understands. I wonder whether Charlotte had any idea. Are there others?

I shake the negative thoughts away and move on to happier topics. "I'm not going to be able to visit next week," I say. I've gotten used to talking to her a little. "Remember, I was going away with my mom? Well, its next week. Jessica is going to visit and Victoria, too."

I clear my throat. "I didn't really tell you all that much about Edward. But he's my boyfriend, and he's going to come here to read to you. He's a good guy, and he's going to look after you while I'm gone."

I pause and look towards the window. There are large seagulls flying close to the building, and their squalling and the shadows they create in the room distracts me. I collect my thoughts. "I didn't want to go. It felt wrong with you here like this. But he talked me into it. He told me that you'd want me to go. I hope he's right."

The squalling fades as the seagulls fly further away. "He's very persuasive, you know. Don't let him talk you into doing anything outrageous while I am gone." I chuckle, but it sounds hollow.

"I'm going to Nashville," I tell her. "It feels strange to be going to your home state without getting your opinion on it." We always liked to talk about traveling. "I wonder if you'd have any recommendations for me. You must have gone to Nashville as a child – it's only a few hours away from where you grew up."

I press my lips together – it worries me to be going to the state where Peter grew up; a state he no doubt knows well, and I know so little. It's human nature to go back to somewhere you know well in a time of crisis, but he left it for a reason, and his home town is hours away from the buzz of the city. There is no reason whatsoever for him to expect me to be anywhere near there.

"You take care." I touch her hand briefly before I go. There is no response of course, but the warmth of her hand comforts me.

 **o0o**

It is nice to see Renee. I sometimes don't realize that I miss her until I see her. I enjoy her company. Our dynamic is different to that of mother and daughter; the relationship we have is different to that I have with Sue, who is undoubtedly the mother figure in my life. Renee is more like a fun aunt who you do stupid, but enjoyable, things with.

Our hotel is beyond nice. We are staying near the Opry in a resort hotel. I've never seen anything like it. The lobby is basically a greenhouse full of exotic plants and flowers, and there is a shopping complex as well as multiple restaurants. I would usually prefer a boutique hotel, but this certainly has its merits.

Our room looks out onto a fountain that has a display on the hour with music and lighted fountains. We arrive just in time to see a show and we stand on our balcony in wonder. I think this is going to be a great trip.

She is overjoyed to see me and her excitement at being here is infectious, too. Not that I am immune to the charms of a lovely hotel and copious amounts of food and drink either. Nashville knows how to do BBQ too.

Following a day of taking in the Country Music Hall of Fame, the Johnny Cash Museum, and some tequila shots in a Honky Tonk called Tooties, we find ourselves sitting on the other side of the river, looking back at the city skyline. The sun has long since dipped behind the skyscrapers of downtown Nashville. It casts a warm yellow glow with a hint of pink from behind them.

The AT&T building is the most noticeable. It stands taller than the rest and has two spires each side that makes me think of Batman. It seems particularly fitting this evening as it is cast black in silhouette against the waning sun.

"So, I wanna hear more about Edward," Renee says. She leans in conspiratorially even though there is no one else nearby. "What's he like?"

How to describe him? "He's kind and insightful. He's interesting and has travelled a lot."

"You have that in common!" she chips in.

"He has the cutest dog." I smile affectionately as I think about Stella. "She's how we met."

"At the park, right? Do tell." She leans in even more. I notice the growing lines around her eyes and mouth, and it gives me pause.

"Well, I would see them when I was running, and I would pet Stella – that's her name. One day I didn't see her, and she barreled into me, knocking me over."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh Bella, you do have your moments!"

"It wasn't my fault!"

She laughs. "So what does he do?"

"He's an architect – a talented one, actually." I wonder whether he would enjoy the architecture here. The Nashville skyline has its charms.

"And so what's the situation now?"

"We're together. The baby isn't his, so he doesn't have any ties to Tanya anymore." I can still see the sadness in his eyes. His pain when he came home to me.

"Phew-ee," she exclaims. "That's a get out of jail card, right there!"

I had been more concerned with Edward's pain and sense of loss to fully see it this way. She is of course right. A link to Tanya would not have been healthy.

"If that's the kind of person she is, the last thing he needs is to be bound to her for life." Renee expresses my thoughts for me.

"Yeah, there's no doubt he's better off without her."

We lapse into silence a while and I take in my surroundings. The sun has descended further, and the light cast into the sky fades. The bright colorful lights of Broadway catch my eye, as does the large rotating guitar in front of the Hard Rock Cafe. The water of the Cumberland River appears relatively still, and the rush of downtown seems so far away in our peace on the opposite side of the river.

"But how does he make you feel?" She rests her arms on her bent knees and turns her head to me as she says this.

"It's hard to describe." I bite my lip.

"Your eyes light up when you talk about him." Her eyebrows rise in question. "You love him, don't you?"

"I do."

She smiles and it softens her whole face. Her hair blows in the wind, and I can see the reflection of the sunset in her brown eyes. Eyes just like mine.

"I feel excited to be with him, but also at home." I shrug. It's such an inadequate way to describe how he makes me feel. "He makes me feel brave and interesting, but just me. I can just be myself, and that's okay."

She nudges me with her shoulder. "Smitten, I'd say."

I smile. I can't deny it.

"I'm happy for you. It's no small thing to find someone who excites you and you're comfortable with. Hold on to him." She clears her throat. "Anyway, how is Charlotte?"

I have been circumspect in what I have told her about Peter, fearing her reaction. But I have told her about Charlotte getting hurt. "So dreadful what that man did to her," she says shaking her head.

"Yes." I look down at my hands in my lap. I don't know if she'll wake up, and the thought of her not waking causes a lump in my throat. The police said they've found an address for her mom in Tennessee, but I don't know if she'll come.

"There's no update really," I answer. "It's a positive sign that she's breathing on her own, and her pupils are reactive. There's no way to know how long it will take her to wake up." I focus on the red lights on Broadway, but all of a sudden they remind me of the red pulsating glow of the ambulance lights that night. So much red, so much blood. I shake my head and try to snap out of it. I've not been sleeping well. Nightmares have come calling often. But this is a vacation with my mom. We should be having fun. "Anyway, how are you?"

"Don't change the subject, Bella," she says, not unkindly. "I can see you're upset. Talk about it with me."

"I don't want to ruin our vacation."

"Impossible!"

"I'm not sure I'm ready." My teeth worry at my lip until it hurts. I wince, and run my tongue over the sore spot. "I don't know how to describe it. It all feels too raw, too out of control."

"I know that feeling." She lets out a sigh. "But you know what?"

"What?"

"It's always better to talk."

"I just feel like I am treading water. I feel responsible for her, but I know so little about her in many ways. If she can hear me reading to her, I might be boring her senseless – I have no idea what she likes to read."

"What did you used to talk about?"

"Work mostly, plans outside of work. She liked to hear about my trips." I shrug. It feels so insignificant.

"Then you'll have lots to tell her when you're back." She wraps her arm around my shoulders. "I bet you're a lifeline for her. It's not all on you. If you made one day for her more bearable, that's something to be proud of."

I swallow around the lump in my throat. There is a strange parallel to my being in Tennessee, I think. This is where Charlotte was born and grew up. I don't imagine that she had a happy childhood from what I know – far from the bright lights of Broadway that shine so brightly across the river. For Peter it was no doubt worse, given his mother's tragic demise. Was he ever a bright eyed young boy with dreams and a clean conscience? Did he see these lights and think that life could be good? Or did he always harbor dark thoughts, tainted by his father's anger?

"You can't save her from her life," Mom says, drawing me from my thoughts. "But she will be eternally grateful to you for trying."

I lean back so that I can see her face. Her eyes are distant as she looks off across the river. She looks suddenly older, and without the energy that she has when she's happy. I wonder if it's her energy that gives her the impression of youth.

"You think?"

She bites her lip. "I have some experience of it. You know, of course, that I have my problems." She worries her shirt buttons with unfocused finger. "It's different because Charlotte's main problem is Peter, not herself. But similar in that she is the one hanging around letting herself be treated that way – she's her own worst enemy in the same way I can be."

"I hadn't thought of it that way." I lean into her embrace some more. I have always felt like the adult in our relationship. But in this moment, I feel like a small child.

"And the thing my experience has taught me is that it's that you can't save someone – they have to save themselves."

I keep my silence, but she hears my question.

"Your dad tried to save me. He was the best thing in the world, and he deserved so much better than he got from me. But I wasn't ready to save myself and it was a disaster. I wasn't strong enough to be in a relationship, and it wasn't fair on him. Or you." She squeezes my arm lightly, and there is a world of regret in the gesture.

I've never really talked to my mother about her illness. I remember visits as a child where I knew something wasn't quite right. Her moods would change like traffic lights, and I'd have to remind her about meal times and bed times. There was no order in her life, and no perspective. I remember her getting really upset about the smallest thing, but shrugging off something more serious. It was like gravity worked in a different way for her. Her reality of the world was different, and as a child I accepted that unquestioningly.

I had my dad and Sue. Renee was an extra, an addition, rather than a source of loss or disappointment. Perhaps her version of that is different, too. I never knew a time when she was there, so never felt her absence. I've not given much thought to how she may feel about that. I lean away to look at her in the muted light, and see the pain written on her features – a desolation I've never seen before.

"But I'm trying. I try every day, and now there are more good days than bad." She squeezes my arm again, but it's a more nervous gesture this time.

As I got older, I came to fear her moods, to worry about her view of things. I'm not sure when that changed. Did my admiration of her spontaneity fade with age? No, I remember what it was now. It was that day.

I was staying with her during the school summer break, back when she lived in Phoenix. She was living with some loser – I don't remember his name – and they were arguing. I only remember snippets. I'm not sure what they were arguing about, but I remember they said dreadful things to each other. I had never been around arguing like that. It was frightening. It was a full-on shouting match. He stormed off, and she unraveled before my eyes. I must have been around eleven years old.

I think that's when fear leeched in. That's when I started to worry about my genes and to be careful; always so very careful, always so responsible. But I am not Renee. If I didn't go off the deep end when Edward left, or when I found Charlotte, chances are that I won't. The revelation is freeing. It feels like a weight I wasn't fully conscious of bearing has lifted. I give her a hug, and suggest we have another drink before heading back to the hotel.

It's completely dark now, and the wind is rising. I imagine that it can blow away my troubles and visualize it doing just that. We walk into a bar called Robert's and hear the opening chords of "Ring of Fire" – I must have heard it four times already this trip. Nashville has its favorites. I let the buoyant and open atmosphere lift me up. My worries will still be there tomorrow.

 **Author's Note**

 **Thanks so much for reading. I would love to hear what you think. I read and reply to all reviews. Thanks to those who have stuck with this story. I love hearing from you.**

 **Particular thanks to Betsy for editing for me. My commas would be misplaced without her for sure!**

 **Rhian xx**


	32. Chapter 32

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **Early update this week as I am heading on a Scottish Highland road trip tomorrow** **I will be back to the usual Tuesday update next week.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 32**

Going on vacation was definitely the right call. Despite the ten hours of traveling, I feel happy and like I can take on the world.

I wait at the terminal exit for Edward to pick me up. I'm excited to see him. I've gotten used to having him in my life, and after only a week apart, I've missed him fiercely.

He pulls up smoothly and jumps out to greet me. His arms wrap around me, and he pulls me into a bear hug before leaning back and planting a firm kiss on my lips. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too." I kiss him this time. A delicate peck on the lips, but it feels so nice that I linger and breathe him in as we kiss. A muted bark sounds nearby, and it makes me jump. I look up to see that Stella is in the backseat and is impatiently waiting to see me. Edward chuckles and grabs my suitcase, putting it in the trunk as I climb into the car. She pokes her head between the front seats, and I am sure she would climb through if she could fit. She is a huge ball of fluff with a heart of gold. There is something fathomless about her eyes; I don't think I'll ever get used to those piercing, almost too blue eyes.

Edward slides into the driver seat. "I think she missed you, too," he comments.

Edward navigates the airport traffic, and as he pulls out onto the I5 asks, "So, how was it?"

"Wonderful. We had so much fun. It felt like real quality time with Renee, too."

He smiles at me briefly before changing lanes. "I'm glad. It was strange without you here. My house felt empty."

"Empty with Stella rough-housing around?"

"Even then." His face is surprisingly somber. Maybe he really did miss me that much. "Who did you see at the Opry? Anyone I'll have heard of?"

"Um, I'm not sure. I didn't recognize anyone's names. There was a runner up for The Voice, but I can't remember her name. There was this mountain group with all these different banjos and ukulele's – that was cool, and they were really funny." I shift in my seat so I can both see Edward better and pet Stella, who still has her head poking between the seats.

"Did they make a country girl of you?"

"Not quite, but I did enjoy it." Stella pants noisily as I pet her. "The biggest star was a lady called Connie Smith. Mom went wild when she realized she was going to see her."

"I think I've heard of her. Blonde lady, older, right? Does she sing gospel songs?" He rolls down his window a little, and Stella runs to it and tries to poke her head out.

"She's a menace!" I can't help but laugh, though.

"Tell me something I don't know." He shrugs and peeks a glance at me.

"Anyway, yes – I think you might be thinking of the right lady. She sang this one about mothers. God, she almost brought me to tears. It was beautiful."

"My dad has a CD of hers, I think."

"Your mom said he likes country music."

"Yes." He frowns. "Plenty of arguments about what to play on a road trip, I can tell you."

"Who would win?"

"Usually mom, which meant – wait for it – Cher."

I laugh. "I can go with a little 'Bang, Bang'. Wait, that sounds wrong."

"Sounds right to me, love." He flashes a devilish grin and winks at me.

"Stop it." I try for a scowl but can't manage it. "What would you have been arguing for?"

"Depends." He taps a rhythm on the steering wheel as he thinks. "I had my phases. In my teenage years, probably some Placebo or Limp Bizkit."

"You surprise me. Well, not with Placebo, but with Limp Bizkit. I wouldn't have taken you for a rocker?"

He looks mildly offended. "I have my moments." He distracts me completely by running his hand up my inner thigh. My breath catches in my throat, and I feel a blush spread on my cheeks.

"Your blush looks even prettier with those freckles." His eyes ravish me; greedily drinking me in.

I take a deep breath and squeeze my thighs together. "Eyes on the road, Cullen."

"Aw, really?" His crooked smile and sad face make him look young. "No bang, bang?"

I know he's saying "Bang, Bang" like the song, but it sounds like he's saying Bamm-Bamm like the little boy with the mallet from the Flintstones. I suddenly have this mental image of Edward in spotty shorts driving his car with his feet, and I can't contain my mirth.

"What?"

I can't speak. I can barely breathe. I don't know why it strikes me as so funny, but it's tickled me.

"There is something wrong with you," he says with conviction.

"Yeah," I agree between giggles.

His hand slides suggestively higher. "This," he says pointedly, "wasn't supposed to be funny."

My giggles slip away, and I catch my breath. "It wasn't that," I say breathily. The moment is broken by my strange brain, and he settles for leaving his hand on my knee.

"There is never a dull moment," he concludes.

"How is Charlotte?"

"The same. She is moving more though – ordinary stuff, like twitching and reactive muscle movement." He peeks a glance at me. "They seem to be looking after her well from what I can tell. That nurse, what's her name?" He waves his hand in a circle in the air as he tries to remember. He makes me smile when he talks with his hands.

"Rebecca?" I supply.

"Yeah! She seems a nice lady – thorough and caring in the way she does things. We had a chat a few times."

"Yeah, she's lovely. Full of tips."

"So I told Charlotte who I was and chatted to her for a bit before reading to her." My heart swells in my chest. Is it possible to love this man more? I am distracted by his expression though – his eyebrows have drawn into a frown.

"What is it?"

"I was just thinking about what a douche that Gage guy is."

"Oh, the book. Who's he? The eldest son?"

"Yeah. He's being really mean to her." He shrugs. "I guess men are really stupid sometimes." I think he's thinking about himself now. "Anyway, never mind. Charlotte is the same, if not good."

I let out a sigh. I know he would have texted if something had changed, but a small part of me was hoping for some good news.

"I heard the nurses talking and think they found her mother," he says, stealing a glance at me before focusing back on the road.

"Yeah? What did they say? Did you see her?"

"No, I didn't see her, but the nurses were saying she'd been there and some chatter about her being all dressed in black and that she was praying for Charlotte. I got the impression they didn't like her, but I'm not sure why." He shrugs a little.

I wonder about this mysterious person. I know Charlotte came to Seattle to run away from her, so I can't imagine that she'd be happy to have her around. But maybe bad family is better than no family at all at a time like this.

"Has my dad been in touch?" I ask.

"He called last night. He asked that you call him when you're back and settled."

"I better text to say I've landed." I grab my phone from my purse, and type out a quick message: _Hi Dad, I am back in Seattle. All safe x Will call you later x_

"There's good news," Edward calls me back to the moment. "They have a lead on Peter back near his childhood home. I'll let Charlie fill you in on all the details, but basically an old aunt who still lives in his hometown said she'd seen him. Local police are making an arrest today."

"He's in Tennessee?" I squeak. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of him being near my mom and me on our vacation in Nashville. "It's stupid to be shocked, really. It's a big state." I'm sure Peter was from a small town outside of Knoxville. I think that's a long way away from Nashville.

"I don't think your dad was too happy about it. But he reasoned that there was no way Peter would know you were in Nashville to begin with."

I don't think my emotions have ever gone so quickly from fear and dread at the thought of being anywhere near Peter while I was on vacation, to relief at the thought that this will soon be over. I let out a large breath that I hadn't been consciously holding. "What a relief!" Though, it's not over for Charlotte. The thought is sobering.

"Yeah, and some." He pats my knee now, and it's a comforting gesture. "I for one will be able to sleep better with him behind bars."

"Me, too." It doesn't feel like justice though with Charlotte in a coma in the hospital. At least he won't be able to hurt her anymore.

"And we can stop looking over our shoulders all the time."

"There is that." I place my hand over his on my thigh and give it a squeeze. "Thanks for picking me up." I mean more than from the airport, and I think he knows it.

"You're welcome." He turns his hand over and clasps mine tight. "I'm glad to have you back."

The cloud cover is dense and ranges from fluffy white to ominously grey in the distance over the city. You can always count on Seattle to have cloud cover, I think, wistfully remembering the blue clear skies of Nashville.

The drive is pleasant enough. It's late afternoon on a Saturday so not too much traffic, and we're home in no time. Home. How easily that word popped into my brain.

Edward grabs my suitcase, and Stella makes a run for the door. She is a blonde blur as she whips past. We catch up to her and Edward unlocks the door, holding it open for both of us.

"Mm, something smells good," I say as I walk inside and catch the fragrance of food cooking in the kitchen.

"I have a casserole in the oven."

I raise my eyebrows. "Well isn't this domestic bliss?"

He chuckles. "I tried to make that chicken one you made, but I'm not sure how similar it will be."

"I'm sure it will be lovely. And if it makes you feel better, all I have to compare it to is crappy airline food."

"You know, I think my cooking might seem good by comparison." His voice drifts away as he heads further into the large space.

A color that doesn't belong catches my eye. I turn to look and see a beautiful bunch of flowers on the dining table. I walk closer to take a better look.

"A welcome home present," he says from the kitchen. He's taking out the casserole dish from the oven. He holds it like it's a nuclear bomb about to go off. It's always obvious when someone isn't at home in the kitchen. But it really does smell good.

I pick them up. They are a beautiful mix – cream roses and stocks in various shades of pink and purple. "They smell divine," I tell him, breathing in the fragrance.

"I'm glad you like them." His smile is satisfied, but turns a bit meek. "I made a school boy error, though. I don't have a vase."

I laugh. "That is a bit of an error. How about we swing round my place, and I'll pick up a vase? There must be mail waiting for me too."

"Plan. I'll just give this a stir." He grabs a wooden spoon from the counter, and I turn to grab Stella's lead from the hook by the door. I put it on her while I wait. She rubs her side against me and nuzzles me with her nose. The wet tip tickles my thigh. "You missed me girl?" I take her face in my hands, and plant a kiss on her head. "I missed you, too."

I didn't hear Edward approach so his voice startles me when he says nearby, "I'm starting to wonder who you missed more." His arms are crossed as he watches us. He's trying for a severe expression, but he can't hide the bright spark in his eyes, or the twitch of his lips, or dimple in his left cheek he gets when he's trying not to smile.

"Erm..." I draw out the word and look up to the ceiling as if in contemplation. "Stella."

He lets out a sound of disgruntlement and strides over to us. "Is that so?"

He stands close, so he towers over me and I have to look up to see his face. "You missed my dog more?" He lowers his head to mine. Our lips are millimeters apart.

He breathes in deeply and seems to savor it. His sigh brushes across my face as he exhales, and goosebumps rise on the back of my neck.

He tilts his head to the opposite side. His lips brush mine, but you couldn't call it a kiss. He rubs his nose against mine as he says, "You haven't missed this more?"

My patience is spent, and I kiss him fiercely. His arms are tight around me in an instant. I tug his hair the way I know he likes. I enjoy the feel of the thick silky strands between my fingers. It feels so good to be in his arms.

Then in a seemingly effortless move, I am flat on my back on the floor, and he is on top of me. God, I have missed this!

His hands wander under my shirt. The strength of them as he puts one hand beneath me and pulls me to him is comforting. I feel so safe in these hands. These naughty hands that also make me writhe in pleasure.

"You didn't answer," he says between kisses.

"Hm?" I don't want to break the kiss to form words.

"Didn't you miss this?" His fingers unclasp my bra, and his lips now seek my nipple.

I groan in pleasure. "Oh, yes. I missed this."

 **o0o**

It is some time later that we get dressed. "I hope my flowers aren't dying," I say.

Edward chuckles. "I'm sure they'll be fine. If not, it was worth it." He says this with a decidedly self-satisfied smirk on his face.

I smooth his hair down with my fingers and place a gentle kiss on his lips. "It was." I don't even try to hide the wonder from my voice, or my face. "I love you."

His eyes are bright with joy and a post-coital glow. "Do you have any idea how good that makes me feel?"

A smile tugs across my face.

"I love you, too."

 **o0o**

He clasps my hand as we walk toward my apartment. There are only small spots of rain in the air, but the dark clouds above us promise a heavy rain so I walk quickly. I can feel the tendrils of winter reaching out to us now that it's later in the day; the temperature has dropped some since I left. I should pick up a coat at my apartment, too.

"Stella can't come in," I say as we arrive. "No dogs, sorry." She is pulling on her lead, clearly wanting to head towards the park. "Why don't you go ahead and I'll catch up. Looks like the rain will set in soon anyway."

Edward's eyes narrow. "I'm not sure..."

"Peter is in Tennessee, right? I'll be fine." The strange thing is that my apartment doesn't feel like mine anymore. More like a place I keep stuff than a true home. It makes me sad, and also angry that Peter has scared me out of my own home. I shake away the negative thoughts and peck Edward on the cheek, and briefly pet Stella's head. "I'll be right behind you."

Edward turns reluctantly and walks to the park. It will only be a short walk if the clouds above have anything to do with it. I turn and notice Shelley at her kitchen window, washing dishes no doubt, and give her a wave.

There is a large pile of post waiting for me. I sift through it quickly. Most of it is junk that goes straight into the trash shoot as I pass it on the way to my apartment.

I turn my key in the lock and am startled by the beeping from the alarm. I've been here so infrequently that I forgot about it. I shut the door behind me and turn to enter my code into the keypad. The beeping stops and is replaced by the beeping of a text on my phone. It startles me in the stillness of my deserted apartment.

My eyes linger on the new locks on the door. I know that Peter is in Tennessee, but my instincts dictate caution, so I pull the deadbolt and the chain. Just to be cautious, I tell myself. Will this ever really end? Or will I always worry in a way that I never had before?

I shake the morbid thought and root in my bag for my phone. It must have slipped right down to the bottom. I decide it can wait. I have a mission. I need a vase for my beautiful flowers from my beautiful boyfriend.

I head into the kitchen where I keep them and shuffle the contents of the cupboard around until I find the right one. Who would have thought that it would turn out like this? I am getting a vase for flowers from the Adonis in the park, whom I live with! It's a cheery thought. My whole face beams with it. I have forgiven him, I realize. I feel a weight lifted; this unseen tether that prevented me from trusting Edward completely. I feel it deep in my bones that he is mine for good. I thrill at the thought.

Vase selected, I shove the post into my purse and put it on my shoulder. Edward won't have gotten far. If I walk quickly, I will catch up in no time. Wait, I want my coat. I walk into my bedroom and stop dead in my tracks.

What I see takes my breath away. My brain is slow to process the reality of what I'm seeing. Oh my God!

"What–" My voice is a hollow and the sound doesn't carry. I clear my throat and speak with more success, "What are you doing here Peter?"

 **Author's Note**

 **Dun, dun, dun!**

 **I know you might be mad at me after that cliffie, but when I first started writing this I had a fleeting fantasy that one day I might reach a thousand reviews. It was something that I didn't think would really happen, but here I am now with 770 and it feels like it could be in reach! There are only three more chapters and an epilogue left, so I might be pushing it, but I would be very grateful if you would help me get there. I am so thankful to those who take the time to read and review.**

 **Thanks so much to Songster for editing this story – particularly for correcting my Britspeak and sorting my commas!**

 **Rhian**

 **xx**


	33. Chapter 33

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 33**

Peter sits unmoving on my bed as if he has a right to be there. His demeanor is strangely calm. His stillness, in this room that was once my haven – where he should not be – exudes a confidence that increases my alarm. He hasn't been caught off guard. He isn't afraid. He was waiting for me.

I, by contrast, am a deer caught in the headlights; motionless, not through assurance, but through fear. What is his plan?

"It's been a while, Bella." His voice feels large and deep in the quiet of the room. I notice the contrast of his dark grubby clothes against my pale blue bedding, and hope they're not dirty enough to leave marks. What a strange thing to think at a time like this!

I guess he isn't so composed though. He is dirty and slovenly dressed in sweatpants that look too large and a tee-shirt that shows the dirt and dark sweat patches at his arm pits. No, he's not as calm as I first thought. He is a man on the run, reduced to back alleys and shadows. I must use this to my advantage.

My thoughts of advantage disappear when I look down to his hands. The curtains are drawn, and so the light is faint and I didn't notice it at first. His fingers twitch and tighten on the gun that he holds in his lap. A small thing really, just a bit of metal; it's strange that it should incite such a guttural reaction from me. My stomach has hit the floor, and I find it hard to breathe. I have taken all this in in mere seconds.

"How did you get in here?" I put my hand to the strap of my bag, trying to look natural as if I'm just holding it save it slipping down. My panic button is in a pocket near the top. I wonder if I can manage to press it without him noticing.

"Your lock is easy enough to pick with the right tools and easy to lock back up when I'm done. Your alarm is good, but I used to install them so…" He shrugs, not bothering to finish the sentence and looking around the space as if pointing out his mastery; his invasion of my space. A sinister light glitters in his eyes. "I bet you have no idea how often I've been here."

The thought is chilling. He's been here often?

"I used to be a locksmith. It wasn't even difficult," he adds nonchalantly, the shrug implied this time.

"What do you want?" My voice cracks, so I clear my throat. I see that he enjoys the break in my composure.

"What do I want? Funny you should ask." He stands now, and I back away instinctively. I readjust my hold on my bag, searching for the button.

"Ah-ah," he says and waves the gun in a 'no-no' gesture. I freeze in place. "Come in. Put your stuff down on the side table there – slowly. Don't get any ideas." Ideas; isn't that what he accused me of giving to Charlotte? He can think again if he thinks I'm going to go along with this madness without a fight. I have ideas all right. Or I will have soon, anyway.

My body has some other ideas, though. My hands don't work as I expect them to. It takes more effort than it should to place my bag down. They don't have the dexterity to press that button without him seeing. Think, Bella! I need a plan.

"Where is your cell?"

I have to clear my throat before I can speak. "In my purse." Why the fuck did I pull the deadbolts on the door? It will cost me precious seconds if I make a run for it; seconds for Peter to shoot me and make my efforts worthless.

He nods. "Make sure it stays there."

I've placed my purse and the vase on the dresser by the door. I step away as if creating a distance from the things that could help me, but I am within arm's reach. I flex my fingers; they will work as they should. And, I have the pepper spray Charlie gave me in the top drawer. I visualize it in my head. I can see right where it is – nestled between my panties and socks.

There is a gleam of excitement in his eyes. He likes me defenseless in my own home. I will play on that. In all honesty, it isn't even hard to generate the quaver in my voice and the wetness in my eyes. But let him think there is nothing behind it but fear.

"I want"—he pauses for effect—"you to do as you're fucking told for a change."

I look at the gun. My eyes track it as he moves and talks. I don't know enough to recognize the make, but I do know enough to see that it is a small, low caliber revolver. I weigh up my options. What is his plan?

"What do you mean do as I'm told?"

He scrunches up his face in what I think is exasperation. "I mean. Exactly. What. I. Said. You're going to do as you're told."

I wave my hand in the direction of my belongings on the dresser. It shakes. "I put my things down like you asked. What are you looking to achieve here, Peter?"

He paces up and down, and I start to think that he doesn't have much of a plan past this point. "The police were planning to arrest you in Tennessee today, Parker."

He turns quickly and his eyes pop wide at my use of his real name, but he recovers and his face morphs into a smug smile. "I was hoping they'd fall for that." He seems to stand taller and prouder with his achievement as he paces the small room. "I got my dear old auntie to say she'd seen me, but it was days after I was there."

"You can't evade them forever. You're already in trouble. There is no use making it worse." He turns again, but his face has changed now, back to that wild look of a caged animal, and I continue, "I don't think you really meant to hurt Charlotte that bad did you?" He grips the gun with both hands almost like he's clawing at it. I note that the safety is on. That will buy me more time when I make my move. "You lost your temper. You love her really."

"Stop it!" He shouts, spit leaving his mouth. "You think you know shit because you know my name? You know nothing!"

I hold my hands up as if in surrender. He is unraveling. I wonder whether just to run. I could sustain a shot and keep moving, I think. Depends on how good a shot he is, but that's no lethal weapon he holds. The safety would give me a few moments grace, but I pulled the locks on the door. That will slow me down. I have damn well locked myself in here with him. What a fool!

"She's still alive, Peter. I've been visiting her in hospital." I take a step nearer the dresser while he's looking away. Fight or flight? What about a bit of both? I just need to slow him down, buy some time.

"What's your end game here? Are you going to hurt me? Kidnap me? Kill me? One shot in here and the police will be called. My neighbors are nosey types." Shelley would be dialing 911 in a heartbeat. Thank goodness she is in. "Is that what you even want? To kill me? You're not a murderer yet, Peter. Why throw away your life over me? Do you know my father was a cop? It's a bad idea to mess with a cop's daughter."

He points the gun at me now. He clicks the safety off. The sound of the click sounds louder for its significance. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up!"

Should I bait him? A gun shot would certainly get me attention. Attention is good, but not while he has such a good aim. I back away a little, hands up again. I feel the dresser edge at the small of my back. "I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't mean to upset you. I know you care about Charlotte. Don't you want to see her again?"

His face collapses, and I see he's not as cold-blooded as I thought. Yes, he's a coward who commits violence against women, but he's no ice-cold murderer. He is still a small boy who doesn't know how to express himself, so he is cruel and lashes out. What sort of example has he had in life with the upbringing he's had? His dad is in jail for killing him mom for Christ's sake. He never had a chance.

The thought is sobering, though. He might not be a murderer yet, but he's been around it. Maybe it's not that big a leap for him. Is that why he's here? I always remember my dad telling me, no matter what someone threatens you with, never go willingly. The moment you're away from where you are expected to be the police can't find you. I have no intention of going quietly, even if it means getting shot in my own apartment.

"It's all your fault! She never would have thought of leaving me before you! She never would have come at me that day if not for you!"

"What do you mean?" I put my hands on the edge of the dresser each side on my hips as if needing its support. I am really inching closer to my bag, and my panic button.

"That day! She came home shouting – it was all because of you and your fucking necklace. I don't know why I took it." He starts pacing again. "Why are you so important to her? Why do you matter more than me?" He sounds like a little boy having a temper tantrum. He even rubs his eyes like a child.

Fight or flight? Fight. I reach my hand behind my back. "Well, maybe because I treat her like a human being, and not a punching bag." That gets his attention. Come closer, Peter.

My hand slides around the vase that I put there only moments ago. How long have I been here? Will Edward start to wonder where I am and come back for me? Please don't let him walk into this.

"You're so fucking holier than thou – like you're anything special!" He nears and lets his guard down. Yes. I must time this right.

"I'm just a regular person. You're the one the one holding a gun and threatening me. Then again, compared to you, maybe I am special. Poor Charlotte, putting up with you all those years."

It's like he literally sees red. His face colors, and contorts in anger. He charges towards me. His instinct wasn't to shoot from afar. He beats with his fists.

The vase is slippery under my touch. I will need two hands if I am to make a weapon of it. I change the weight distribution on my feet in anticipation of turning. He is faster than I gave him credit for.

Reality slips away for a moment as I react to the blow. Time feels like it slows and tilts. The pain is much more acute than I would have thought. My cheek feels like it has popped open. My hands have instinctively gone to my face. I feel no blood. My cheek is surprisingly intact. There is a resounding ache from deep inside my bone, and a hot feeling as the blood pools near the surface.

"Just shut up you, bitch!" He says from behind me. "I can't think with you going on at me. I don't care what you have to say."

When I come to myself I realize this was perfect. My body was primed to turn, and the blow furthered my aim. I am leaning on the dresser, and my hair hanging down around my face shields me from view. I slip my hand in my bag and with fumbling fingers press that panic button like my life depends on it. And in reality, it just might.

I look down and see his faint shadow cast on the carpet. I sense that he is still close behind me. His breathing is harsh, no doubt with the excitement of the moment. It's enough to make me want to be sick. I take a deep breath and go for it. Now is my moment.

I kick out with my leg behind me. I am not sure whether I catch his shin or calf, but the contact is firm and it reverberates up my leg. I hear a satisfying cry of pain. I grab the vase with both hands, spin, and aim for his head.

I realize mid-spin that he has gone down to his knees with the kick to his leg, so my aim is off. I correct it as well as I can, but not well enough – it is a glancing blow to the head rather than the solid thwack I was hoping for. It's enough to slow him down though, and I run for the door, my heart in my throat.

"You bitch!" he shouts from behind me. I can hear him standing. I see the hole burst through the door ahead me milliseconds before I hear the sound of the gun firing. I duck quickly into the nearest room, which is thankfully the bathroom. Thank the lord for my old apartment and its heavy doors! I lock it with numb fingers that don't quite feel like they are mine. I grab the chair and angle it underneath the lock. I think it might just hold long enough for the response team.

The noise of the gun in my small apartment was shocking; my ears hurt still, and the sound echoes for what feels like forever. I am not sure whether it is a true echo, or just in my ears.

"It's over, Peter. I have a panic button. The police are on their way," I yell through the door.

He fires off another round. It doesn't quite make it through the door, but it splinters. I debate whether to get into the tub to protect me from bullets and wait it out, or try for the window. But will the door hold? I'll be like a fish in a barrel if I stay here – the window. _Fuck!_

I can't hear Peter on the other side of the door, and there are no more shots, but I can't take the chance. I try to scramble up onto the window sill. I know there is a solid drain pipe to climb down and I'm only one storey up.

The window is behind the sink, so it's an awkward maneuver. I stand on the side of the bath eternally glad that I am wearing flats and equally dismayed that I am wearing a short skirt that hampers my stride. I pull it up and out of the way. I have no time for modesty.

I knock over my mirror and a few bottles as I clamber onto the windowsill that is thankfully wide. I pull up the old sash window with shaking arms and wish that it was bigger. What on earth am I doing? How am I going to do this? I turn so that I am on my knees and slowly back out. One story isn't very far, right?

I am definitely pushing my athletic skills here. I can run, but have no experience of climbing whatsoever. I take a deep breath and curse myself for wanting to try new things this year. Getting shot at and climbing out of my bathroom window is certainly new, but not what I had in mind! Astonishingly, I want to laugh. I can feel giggles bubble inside of me. What the fuck is happening?

The bubbles pop with what feels like a bang when I hear footsteps the other side of the door. My insides feel like mush. I wiggle backwards, and I search for the piping with my feet. It's hard to find it without being able to look, but the window isn't big enough for me to look round. I am started out of my search when I hear my name called.

"Bella? Bella!" The voice grows in urgency.

"Edward?" I call.

He tries the door handle. "Bella, are you okay?" He is pushing at the door I think.

"Edward! Peter has a gun. Get out of here!"

There is a pregnant pause. "Edward!" I yell.

"Is he in there with you?" His voice is low and sounds dangerous, even through the door.

"No, I thought he was out there!"

"There's no one here. Let me in." The door handle rattles as he tries it.

I start to wiggle back in through the window. It's harder than I had expected it to be. My center of gravity is already out of the window and the sill cuts painfully at my middle. "Coming," I squeak.

It is then that I hear the sirens, growing louder as they approach and let out a sigh of relief. That was close. "Bella," Edward calls urgently from the door.

"It'll just take a minute." I am on the window sill now and am navigating my descent to the floor.

"What are you doing?" He rattles the handle some more.

I move the chair from beneath the door handle and open the door to answer him. "I was climbing out of the window. I had to climb back in." I rub my stomach where my weight rested on the sill. It's sore but a small price to pay in comparison to what could have happened. I shudder. My hands tremble as I reach out to embrace Edward. There is power in his touch; a healing quality. Everything will be okay now.

 **Author's Note**

 **Only another two chapters and an epilogue to go – I can hardly believe this story is almost at an end.**

 **Huge thanks to Songster, she is the best beta a girl could hope for.**

 **Thanks so much for the response to the last chapter – I would be over the moon if I could get to 1000 reviews. There were a few people that don't have PMs enabled, or reviewed as a guest so I couldn't respond, but thank you all.**

 **Rhian**

 **xx**


	34. Chapter 34

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 34**

I hold onto Edward as if for dear life. "Climbing through the window?" he repeats incredulously.

I close my eyes and take in deep breaths to regulate my breathing. He smells just the same as always, and I feel some of the fear leach out of me.

He squeezes me a touch tighter before pulling away and grasping my hand. "Come, we should get out of here and go meet the police." We move quickly, Edward is faster than I am, and I need to pull on his hand to slow him down. Despite the deep breaths, I feel winded; my body is still reacting to the fear. "Did you call them?" he asks.

I nod. Then clear my throat to answer when I realize he can't see me nodding as he tugs us quickly down the stairs. His head turns as he scans the surroundings quickly, making sure Peter isn't lurking in the hallway. "I pressed my panic alarm." My voice sounds strange to my own ears; small and miles away despite it being my own. It's then that I remember the pain in my ears, and the unexplainable sensation of the bullet whizzing past my ear and the air swooshing in its wake.

"How did you get in?" I ask breathlessly.

"The door was wide open." His voice is gruff and disapproving. Peter must have left it open in his haste to leave.

"You didn't see him then?"

"No." He shakes his head.

"How did you get in the building though?"

"Shelley was in the hallway. She said she'd heard a gun. God, I've never felt so…" He shakes off the thought as we reach the main door.

I can see the red flashing lights cast their glow onto the ceiling of the hall as Edward reaches for the door handle. The racket of voices and sirens seems far away to my hurt ears. We find ourselves facing a group of armed police, shouting for us the put our hands in the air. We do as we're told, hands still clasped together. It feels like there are police everywhere – though I know that can't be the case – all I can see is uniforms and guns.

"Bella!" I turn my head and recognize Garrett, who is calling to me from behind the police cordon.

"Lower your guns, boys," he says. "This is the lady who called us."

They keep their guns up and turn their eyes to Edward. "He's my boyfriend," I squeak in that voice that doesn't sound like my own.

"What happened, Miss?" the one in the center asks. He stands slightly ahead of the others. He has a kind face, but his eyes are tight and he's on the alert.

I look at Garrett as I speak for he'll understand my meaning. "Peter was in my apartment. He had a gun. He threatened me." The words spill out of me.

"When?" the policeman asks. His eyes already scan the vicinity. The light is failing, and he squints against the gloom that is lit by intervals by the flashing red of the police cars.

I turn to face him as I answer. I notice his gun is still in his hands, but is now pointed at the ground. "Five minutes, max."

He takes a step back. "Perimeter sweep," he commands. "Perp as described. Five-eleven, blonde hair. He has a gun, fellas. Be careful. Bring him in." He makes some hand gestures, and the group splits into three and head in opposite directions.

One pair moves toward us, and we step out of the way of the door. Once they are inside, Garrett approaches us as we stand, somewhat overwhelmed, by the doorway. He ushers us to his car nearby. "Get in the back," he says. "You're safe now, Bella." He rubs my arm briefly, then his hand goes back to hover over his gun at his belt. "I take it you didn't get my text?"

"Your text?" I stare at him blankly.

"I sent you a message to let you know that it was a mislead in Tennessee – he wasn't there, obviously." His brow is furrowed into a frown, and his eyes dart around, taking in our surroundings.

"Oh, I did get a text, but my phone was at the bottom of my purse."

"I'm so sorry, Bella. If I had any idea, I would have been here."

His apology takes me by surprise. "It's not your fault."

I slow a moment and look back at the building, my brain catching up. "I left my bag…" My legs feel like jello, and the short distance to the car becomes a challenge. I feel exposed, even with Garrett in front of me and Edward behind. The road has been closed to traffic, and Garrett leads us to a police car parked in the street. His eyes scan the area as he opens the back door of the car for me.

"Wait," Edward says. "I just need to get my dog." I hadn't thought of Stella. Where is she?

"Where is she?" Garrett echoes my thought.

Edward points to the other side of the street where he has tied her leash to a sturdy bike rack. I hadn't noticed her in all the chaos, but now her blonde fur stands out starkly against the dark wood of the adjacent coffee shop. She shifts her weight from foot to foot and strains against her leash.

Garrett scans the environs once again and nods to Edward that it's safe, though he's already moving in her direction. There are onlookers watching interestedly from the police cordon, while cars turn down side streets or do three-point turns to head back the way they came.

I scan the crowd for blonde hair. A shock of pale hair catches my eye and my heart quickens, but it's just a young girl. Our eyes lock as I search her face and register that it's not him. Her head is tilted to one side, and her brows crease. I get into the car.

My eyes search for Edward through the window. He is crossing the street, weaving between the police cars and their open doors that have been strategically placed to face the door of the building. Stella tugs roughly at her leash. I worry she might hurt herself. Edward nears her now and pets her head, but still she tugs and strains. She lets out a bark, and I follow her gaze.

The two policemen who headed north to search are still in sight, and one turns his head to look in the direction of the bark. Sensing no danger, he turns back to approach the alley down the side of my building.

I turn my gaze back to Edward. He is walking towards the car, Stella pulling furiously at her lead. I worry she might choke. What is up with her? I open the car door as they near and expect Stella to come to me ready to be petted. But instead she takes a sniff of my hand and a cursory sniff of my top, and resumes tugging on her lead away from me.

"What's up, girl?" Edward asks. It takes both hands to hold her lead. He adjusts his hold, and she shoots off like a mad thing, the leash slipping through his fingers. "Stella!"

She runs as if on a mission. She startles the policemen as she runs past them, and Edward gives chase. "Stella!" he yells, but she takes no notice. She disappears round the corner of the building and even from here, I can hear her bark. It's not her usual boisterous bark; it is piercing and angry.

There is a loud burst of sound, much louder than Stella's barking, and it rings in my ears. The sound seems to echo all around, and I can't pinpoint where it came from. I look around expecting to see something that will tell me what happened. I see the policemen run towards where Stella disappeared. Edward isn't far behind. I can't hear any barking. _No. No!_

I am out of the car without conscious thought. Garrett is running towards the alley, gun in hand. My legs still feel weak beneath me, but I stagger into the road.

I hear shouting—"Drop your weapon!"—and more gunfire as I near. A single shot and a pause followed by three sharp bursts. I know I should be running in the other direction, and not towards the noise, but Stella could be hurt. Edward could be hurt. I have to be there.

It is as if time has slowed down. I run on legs that don't feel like my own. I take deep breaths that give my lungs no relief. My heart hammers so fiercely in my chest that my whole body pulses with it. It feels like an age before I near the alley. I round the corner and struggle to take in my surroundings.

The alley is in near darkness, the waning rays of light blocked out by the tall buildings on either side. My heart falters as I see Stella on the ground, and even in the failing light her pale fur shows the shocking dark red of blood on her side, the glint of moisture catching the light.

"No!" The cry bursts from my lips. Garrett is in front of me, barring my way. "Let me past!"

To my relief, I see that Edward is with Stella. He is unhurt, and takes off his shirt to pass it against Stella's side. The blood from his hands leaves a stain on his white tee. His face is lined with tension, his eyes meet mine briefly, and the fear there is almost my undoing.

I push against Garrett's hold and look up to ask him why he won't let me past. His eyes are focused on a dark silhouette in the distance. I see a policeman stopped over a form on the ground. His arm is tucked at an unnatural angle. He nods to Garrett and he lets me go. It is then that my brain makes sense of the scene. The policeman was checking for a pulse.

I recognize his dirty sweat pants first. The form on the ground is Peter. In my rush to get to Edward and Stella, my feet have taken me forward, but my eyes are trained on the form on the ground. His skin appears as pale as his platinum blonde hair. No, not pale; grey and lifeless. There are dark patches on his chest, and blood on his forearm. The stillness of his body is startling. His eyes remain open, but they are sightless. I have no affection for Peter, just moments ago he was going to hurt me, but the sight of his lifeless body brings tears to my eyes.

A small yelp from Stella snaps me out of my thoughts. I go to her, kneeling on the ground beside her. The tears flow freely down my face. I put my hands over Edward's on his shirt. My fingers slip on the blood before finding purchase.

"Let's get some light in here and secure the scene," someone shouts. "I need all weapons fired in bags and tagged."

"Is it bad?" I ask Edward. There is blood around her mouth too, but I have a feeling that is Peter's rather than her own. My eyes flick in his direction again and I remember the grisly wound on his arm, though it's too dark to make it out from where I kneel.

"I don't know. I just wanted to get pressure on it." Stella turns to look, trying to lick at her wound, but our hands are in the way and she licks my wrist instead.

"I think the bleeding might be slowing," he says.

"Shall we look?" Our eyes meet and I find comfort in his gaze, despite the anguish of the moment. Whatever happens, we are in this together.

I remove my hands first. There isn't enough light to see, so I ask Edward for his phone and find the flashlight function. I shine it onto Edward's hands ready for when he moves his shirt from the wound. I can see him falter, worried about what we will see. "On three?" I suggest.

He nods and keeps his eyes on his hands. The stain of Stella's blood is even more startling in the bright light of the torch. The blood has leached into the lines of his hands and his knuckles appear striped. I count, "One, two, three."

I fear that there will be some massive spurt of blood. But there is nothing more than a matted patch of red fur.

"I can't see anything through her fur," he says. His fingers search to find the wound and Stella surprises us both by standing. "No, sit girl."

She looks at Edward in what looks like confusion, but then plonks her butt on the floor and turns back and tries to lick behind her shoulder where the patch of blood is. She seems fine, really. Or might it be the shock?

"Maybe it was just a scratch?" I ask.

Edward stops Stella licking her wound, and reaches out to take his phone from me. "I want a better look."

The glow of the flashlight reflects on his face. He frowns as he leans in close to see better. Stella lets out a small yelp. "Sorry, girl," he says. But his face has relaxed. "I think she's fine. It looks more like a cut, and it's not too deep." He grins and sighs in relief.

My eyes flicker over to Peter's… body. I stumble over the word even in my mind. I don't want to look, but my eyes keep darting that way. It's as though I am scared he is going to get up.

"I've tagged his weapon," a police officer says. The alley lights up with spotlights and I blink in the brightness. There are more people around us than I had realized. There are small numbers laid on the ground next to drops of blood and bullets.

"Folks, we need to clear the alley; preserve the scene." It's the leader from before, I think. I see only his silhouette with the glare of the spotlights behind him.

Edward and I stand. My bones ache. Everywhere hurts. Stella seems fine and walks with us to the end of the alley. I think the bleeding has stopped.

"Do either of you need medical attention?" the officer asks. It is the man from before, I see now.

Edward's hand slowly caresses my face that no doubt shows the punch I took earlier. His touch is feather-light, but his eyes are tight with concern. I shake my head though. "I don't think so. I'm more worried about Stella. We need to get her to a vet."

The sun has set behind the building, but the sky is still light in the distance. The amber glow of the sun casts shadows on the clouds, and they look tinged with turquoise.

"You'll need to give a brief statement and arrange a time for you to come to the station. Given that there was fatal shooting, another team will take over. They'll be here any minute." He nods and walks away to join a group of officers standing nearby. There is a tension in the air that can't be denied. The threat is over, but the events of the night seem to ricochet in the wind.

I begin to feel the full pain in my body. I put my hand to my face. My cheek is swollen already and my head feels hollow and aches all over rather than just where he hit me. A shudder runs through me. As I look down, I see the scrapes and bruises on my legs, my hands. I can't believe I almost climbed from my bathroom window.

Edward wraps his arm around me, and the warmth of him is a shock. I hadn't realized how cold I was. "You're shivering," he says and rubs his hand up and down my arm. He leads me to sit in the back of a police car as he tries to contact an emergency vet that will see Stella on a Saturday night. I avoid the gaze of the onlookers from the street this time. I get the impression there are many more people than earlier from the corner of my eye.

A police officer I don't recognize comes to speak with me. He jots down my words in his note pad. He has kind eyes and their corners crinkle with his expression of sympathy. He asks about the shooting, but of course I didn't see that. All the while my eyes search for, and periodically meet, Edward's. Stella is lying on the road and seems quite content, but I can't quite believe it yet.

He asks me what happened in the apartment and I tell him, bile in my mouth. "Can you describe the gun White had, Miss?" the officer asks with pen poised.

"Small. A low caliber revolver. I didn't catch the brand." My mind flashes back to the apartment – me all alone and Peter pointing it at me in my own bedroom. My stomach is in knots.

Edward walks over, and the officer looks up at him. "I've gotten in touch with a vet. I'd like to leave as soon as possible."

"No issue. Let me take your contact details." He takes a look at Stella but keeps a wary distance. "I hear that's one brave dog you have there."

Edward pats her head in pride. "She has her own mind."

 **o0o**

We are in the car on our way to the vet; Edward driving and me in the back seat with Stella. The bleeding has stopped and I am sure she'll be fine, but my blood is still pumping quickly through my veins, and I hear my own pulse loud in my ears. I have to hear it from the vet before I will truly believe it. I can't bear that she's hurt because of me. I run my fingers slowly through her thick fur and plant a kiss on her head. "It's going to be okay," I say over and over.

It's only a short ride up Highway 99 – there is an emergency vet nearby. The street lights light up the car as we pass by quickly on the fast road; it gives the impression of flashing lights. I close my eyes against it and hold Stella close.

Edward won't let her walk into the surgery, so he opens the back door and carries her in. She is a heavy weight, and it's awkward to navigate the doors.

The vet is young guy with messy dark curly hair and a pronounced Indian accent. "What have we got here?" he asks. "Are you the guy that phoned earlier?"

"Yes. She was shot." The vet leads us through to a surgical room and motions for Edward to put Stella down on a large metal table in the middle of the room. She lies down on her good side with some encouragement from Edward, but she eyes the vet warily.

The vet offers his hand for her to smell before petting her on the head. He tilts his head up, "What's her name?"

"Stella," Edward answers. Her ears prick and she looks to him, then her gaze wanders over her surroundings. The room is clinical as you'd expect. The walls though, are a bright shade of yellow. The cheeriness of the color seems out of place.

"Is she good?" the vet asks. "Does she bite?"

"Never." Edward shakes his head vehemently and takes a step forward and puts his hand on her back.

The vet turns his attention back to Stella. "Hello Stella. I'm Saj. That looks like a nasty wound." He moves his hand to the scruff of her neck and pulls it away from her. The skin stays there a moment before sinking back to its ordinary position. "She's a touch dehydrated. We'll get her some fluids."

"Money isn't an issue. Give her whatever she needs," Edward says and runs his hand through his hair. I think he's forgotten about the dried blood.

"Good, good." Saj nods and a technician I hadn't noticed entering leaves the room. The vet clicks his fingers to the side of Stella's head, and she jerks to see. "Motor functions are good."

The nurse returns with a bag of clear fluid and some plastic tubing and lays it on the counter. Saj maneuvers a lamp to see the wound better and leans over it.

"I think it would be better if we sedate her for the stitches." He places a hand to the side of the wound, and Stella's head whips around quickly. He moves it quickly away, and Edward pets her head to gain her attention. I feel like a spare part. "I'll need to shave the area. It looks deep and we might need internal stitches too."

"Can I take her home straight away?" Edward asks.

He shrugs. "It's up to you. It's safe to take her – it doesn't look like there is internal damage to worry about, and the sedation will wear off naturally. She'll be groggy, though."

"I'll take her," he says firmly. I place my hand to his back, needing the connection.

Edward holds Stella's head while they prepare to sedate her. I move to stand in her line of vision and pet her nose. "You're so brave," I say.

The tech strokes Stella's paw before trimming a patch of fur on her leg. Saj inserts a long needle and Stella jolts back before her eyes start to droop and the weight of her body collapses in Edward's arms. She looks so vulnerable as her head lolls to the side and her tongue flops out. It brings tears to my eyes.

The wait is tough. I think she'll be fine, but the worry won't leave me yet. Edward and I sit in the too bright yellow waiting room on plastic chairs. I hold his hand with both of mine. With one hand, I trace the lines on his palm. They are clean now. We cleaned up in the vet's bathroom. I shudder at the memory of Stella's blood on these hands. The thought of her being hurt because of me is sickening.

"What happened in the alley?" I ask. "Did you see… _him_?"

Edward's raises his head and turns to look at me, slowly emerging from the depths of his thoughts. His eyes meet mine before he nods. His brow creases and his head tilts to the side as if considering what to say. "There was blood everywhere. He'd shot her by then, but she was still attacking him." He emits a low chuckle and sits back in his chair, looking to the ceiling. "She's so brave," he says when his eyes come back to mine.

I squeeze his hand. "I owe her big time." I swallow against the lump in my throat.

"The police arrived at the alley before me. They were shouting for him to drop his weapon, but he was waving it around, trying to get away from Stella." His eyes are miles away as he remembers. "I tried calling her, but she wouldn't listen."

His hand cups mine, and I turn into him. "The police fired a warning shot to get his attention. I don't know what he was thinking. He looked shocked, like he didn't even know they were there. Stella backed away. Smart girl." A small smile graces his face. "Then his face morphed into a mask of hate and he raised his gun, aiming right at them. I think he fired. I'm not sure. It was so loud; the sound ricocheting in the alley." He shakes his head as if still hearing the sound.

He is quiet a moment, lost in thought. I give him a small nudge. "Go on," I say.

"He went down. He sank to his knees, and then keeled over to the side. He never let go of his gun. He was trying to shoot the police even from the ground, but he didn't have the strength, and then he stopped moving."

"I'm sorry you had to see that." I give his hand a squeeze.

"Hell, don't worry about that. You were alone with him in your own house! I can't believe I didn't come in with you." He rubs his face with his free hand. The lines of anger on his face peek from behind his hand. The set of his jaw is hard.

"I'm so sorry she got hurt because of me." Tears well in my eyes. I've shed so many tonight that watery feels like their natural state. They come easy, and my eyelids feel heavy and large as I blink.

"Hey, hey," he says wrapping me in his arms. "No more of that. This isn't on you. Just the thought of you alone with him takes my breath away." I feel the shudder go through him.

"He can't hurt us now," I say, but my tone is desolate. I wanted him to go away. I didn't want him dead.

Still wrapped in his arms he asks, "Will you tell me what happened in the apartment? I caught some of what you said to the police…" He squeezes me tighter before releasing me. He looks into my eyes and brushes my hair back from my face.

I allow myself a deep breath and begin to relax. I think this might finally be over. Stella is going to be okay and we don't need to worry anymore. We're together, and I dare to hope that things really will be okay; better than okay.

I clear my throat and tell him what happened. He is angry and concerned, often touching me as if reassuring himself that I really am okay. He lingers over the bruising on my eye and cheekbone. But the story no longer holds the anguish that it did when I told the police. It's factual, and though scary, it is in the abstract – I am no longer in the moment; I am no longer at risk.

The relief is healing; a weight lifted. I knew I was stressed, but I hadn't fully comprehended the magnitude of it. I feel it lift away from me as I share my story. I am light as a feather floating in the breeze. I made it to the other side.

 **Author's Note**

 **Thanks so much for reading this story! There is just one more chapter and a short epilogue to come. I hope you are enjoying it. Please review and let me know what you think.**

 **Thanks, as always, to songster for her editing skills.**

 **Rhian**

 **xx**


	35. Chapter 35

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Chapter 35**

"Stella, come back," Edward calls. She has strayed far ahead of us, and I think she is trying to bite the waves as they crash onto the shore. She doesn't like the waves; she seems to think they're out to get her.

He turns his head in my direction and shakes his head. "She's crazy." Our eyes meet and hold, and his expression softens in a way that melts my insides. He stops in his tracks and I stop with him. He brushes my hair from my face. His eyes are bright and lines crinkle at the corners with his smile. "You're so beautiful when you smile like that," he says and leans in to kiss me.

My body thrills as much as it did the first time he kissed me. My nerves are alive with excitement, and a deep desire pools in my belly. It warms me despite the bitter chill of the winter air. I cling to him fiercely, pausing only to catch my breath. The wind blows around us, and Stella barks in the background.

Then there are jealous sandy paws scratching at my thigh, and the kiss is at an end. I place a shaky hand on top of her head and stumble away on weak legs. "I'm not stealing him, girl."

"Nope, you've already stolen me," Edward mutters from behind me, before following us along the beach. Stella runs ahead again, jumping between large logs of driftwood, and only turning when she meets the end of the beach and hits the rocks of the craggy shoreline.

Stella suits the wildness of our surroundings. Her fur, though blowing every which way in the wind, protects her from the chill, and she shakes off the sand without a care. She enjoys walking on the pebbles less, but seems to enjoy the freedom of the wilderness, and her piercing blue eyes spark.

Edward catches up to me and takes my hand as we turn around to head back to the cabin. He puts my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. "I can't think of anywhere better to spend New Year's with you. Thank you for arranging this."

I smile so wide that it hurts my cheeks. "You're welcome." I balance on my tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. I thought it was high time that I planned something nice for Edward; he's always treating me and being thoughtful. I've rented us a large cabin near Roche Harbor on San Juan Island.

Edward loves it here, and so do I – it's utterly idyllic. The island is one of a collection of islands in the Puget Sound, a few hours north of Seattle. It's my first visit, and even in winter, I can see its beauty, and feel the magic of our surroundings.

We are walking along a beach on the north of the island, not far from the cabin. The beach is a mixture of dark sand and pebbles along a rugged shoreline. In the distance, across the water I see a peninsula of land reaching out into the sea with tall evergreen fir trees reaching up into the clouds. The sun is still low in the sky yet, and peeks teasingly through their branches as they are blown in the wind.

We near the cabin, and Stella scales the wooden steps with easy grace. My heart lurches as I think how we could have lost her, but I push the thought away and squeeze Edward's hand tightly as we climb the steps more slowly.

The cabin is just the right mix of old and new. It has traditional furnishings and a log fire, and large sliding doors that lead out onto a veranda that offers beautiful views with the sea to one side and the forest to the other.

Edward has plans to build us a holiday home somewhere on the island. We're going to view some plots in a couple of days, and I can't wait. The idea of being able to come here with Edward and Stella often excites me to the bone.

I have given up the lease on my apartment. I have no desire to live there, and more, I want to live with Edward. It happened much more quickly than I would have planned, but since when did anything in my life go to plan? My things fit surprisingly well at Edward's – my florals and trinkets softening the once hard edges of his decor. He has bought a plot to build on in Seattle already, but we will stay in the house in Broadview for now.

We while away the afternoon; Edward napping, his head resting on a cushion in my lap, and me reading a book. After reading that book to Charlotte in the hospital, I have quite gotten into Lisa Kleypas books. I am currently gripped by the trials of Lady Aline and the stable boy McKenna. _Again The Magic_ is quite the page-turner, but soon I am dozing too. Just as I drop into unconsciousness, my mind flits to Charlotte and how I came to discover the book. She is much the same, and it's been over three months now. I am worried that she will never wake up, and though I don't remember my dreams when I wake, I know they were troubled and the image of blood haunts my mind.

 **o0o**

"Argh!" I yell, jumping out of the way. I laugh hard. "I can't believe you did that!" I flick my arms in an attempt to flick away the moisture.

Edward decided to make frozen mojitos and didn't fix the lid onto the blender properly, so we're both wet from his efforts. He laughs and grabs a towel, clumsily mopping at his soaked shirt. He licks his finger and says, "Tastes good, though."

He makes sure the lid is properly fixed the next time, and the loud whirl of the blender fills the kitchen. He pours us both a glass and adds a sprig of mint. He hands me a glass and raises the other. "To us."

"To us," I say as we clink glasses. I lean in to kiss him, and I can feel his evening stubble sharp against my lips. I hook my finger into the gap between his shirt buttons and tug playfully. "Maybe we should change your shirt…"

His eyebrows rise and his eyes sparkle with mischief. "Well, it wouldn't do for me to have a soaked shirt, would it?"

I shake my head with mock concern and circle his nipple through his wet shirt. He has surprisingly sensitive nipples for a man, and he writhes in pleasure.

We don't make it to the bedroom to get a new shirt. We don't even make it to the stairs. We make love on the rug in front of the open fire. But it's not the fire that warms me – it's the heat of our passion.

It feels like a long time later when I look up at the old grandfather clock in the corner of the room and see that we missed the strike of twelve.

"Happy New Year," I say, resting my chin on Edward's naked chest.

"Happy New Year, love." He moves out from under me, his hands lingering on my skin as he maneuvers from beneath me. "I have something for you." He reaches for his jeans and digs into his pocket.

"You got me a gift?" I sit up and pull a blanket from the sofa.

He glances over his shoulder at me. "Yeah." He looks suddenly nervous and butterflies dance in my stomach. It's suddenly hard to breathe.

He has a small light blue pouch in his hand. "I wanted to mark the occasion – the beginning of a new year together." His nervousness fades away and a dreamy look enters his eyes.

"It's been a hell of a year!" I aim for blasé, but the quaver in my voice betrays me. I don't think I am ready for this. I want Edward – that is a certainty, but marriage? I don't feel grown up enough! I have oats to sow, things to do. Panic bubbles up inside of me at the same time as a small part of me wants this promise from him. I feel my cheeks warm.

"Don't panic," he says. "I know you're not ready for weddings."

I let out a relieved sigh that is too loud in the small space. I realize how ungracious it is and sneak a quick look at him. He doesn't look put out. In fact, there is the twinkle of laughter in his eye. "You're such a commitment-phobe." The laughter bursts out of him in a brief chuckle. And though there is still tension in the air, the mood has shifted. He crosses his legs and sits down next to me on the rug.

He places the pouch on my knee. "It's not an engagement ring, but it is meant to mean something. Open it."

I pick up the pouch with trembling hands, as if the contents might hold some danger. What a fool I am. My fingers reach into the pouch and hook on a small item and fish it out. It is a delicate ring with diamonds the whole way around. I let out the breath that I have been holding, and my eyes dart to Edward's. "It's so pretty." It's elegant; beautiful, yet subtle.

Edward takes it from my fingers, and I notice how cold they are. "It's an eternity ring," he says. "No elaborate wedding planning, or nightmares about seating arrangements"—he winks at me with a knowing smile—"just you and me, and a promise."

"A promise?" My hand shakes a little as he takes the left one in his. He hovers the ring over my ring finger.

He nods and swallows. "I did some research, and in ancient Egypt, the circle was a symbol of eternity. They believed that a bond between a man and woman was so strong that it couldn't be interrupted by death, and so – the modern-day eternity ring."

His eyes find mine and seem to bore inside of me. I'm not shy now though; I want Edward, and I want him forever. His eyes ask a question, and I nod in response. He slides the ring onto my finger. It looks beautiful, all the more for its meaning, and the thought that he's put into this – into us.

"There are other theories, but I like this one. You and me"—he takes a deep breath—"I feel like this is it."

I curl my fingers around his and scooch nearer to him, so that our legs entwine. "Me too." I lean in to kiss him. I slide my fingers through his soft, unruly hair and hold him tight like I will never let him go. His lips are firm and demanding, and he devours me with hungry lips until I have to break free to catch my breath that comes in hard-won gasps.

Edward strokes my hair behind my ear. "God, you're something else. The way I feel when I'm with you…"

His eyes hold a wonder that I feel deep within my heart. For all that I've been through this year, I wouldn't change a moment of it, if this is where it has brought me. "I love you, Edward. Everything we've been through this year was worth it for this."

"I never want to be apart from you again." His thumb grazes gently over my lower lip and I kiss it.

"Do you have any resolutions this year?" he asks.

I nod my head with mock gravity. "I have many resolutions," I say trailing my hand down his naked chest. His muscles tense and his breath catches. "Some more carnal than others."

He grabs my wrist before I reach my intended target between his legs. I give him a questioning look.

"Here I am, trying to have a real conversation about our future and there you are"—he licks his lips, subconsciously, I think—"lusting after my body."

"And a fine body it is."

He grabs me quickly and turns me in his embrace, his legs wrapped around me and my back to his chest. He kisses and nips at my neck in a way that makes my toes curl. "The future, you say?" I am panting, and Edward foils my attempts to turn and face him as he ravages my neck. "I can't imagine a future without you."

He pauses in his assault to whisper in my ear, "I don't _have_ a future without you."

I turn in his arms, and this time he lets me. The smell of him is intoxicating – a sensual mix of Edward, his fresh cologne, and the muskiness of the sweat that we worked up just a little while ago. I breathe in deeply.

"You've changed me – you know that don't you?" he says. Our eyes meet, and I wait for him to continue, even as my lips dip to his chest. "My love for you is scored deep on my heart, and I can't survive without it."

"I plan to take very good care of it." I kiss his chest. "I plan to look after it for a long time." The diamonds of my ring catch the light as I smooth my hands over his chest and I feel a possessiveness that is new to me. "I'm never going to let you go."

He squeezes me tight in corroboration of my words. He stands and I squeal in his arms. "Wanna go to bed?"

I relax in his arms. He holds me safely. "Shall we stay up a bit? Finish the bottle?"

"Your wish is my command." He plants a soft kiss on my forehead and places me on the sofa while he gets our glasses and the bottle of champagne from the kitchen.

"Do you want to try the elderflower liqueur in it this time?" he calls.

"Good idea," I call back wrapping myself in the blanket. Edward likes champagne as it comes, but I find it a little dry.

He hands me my glass and sets the bottle and his glass on the coffee table. He sits next to me and puts his arm around my shoulders.

"This is good," I say referring to my drink, and take another sip.

"I put a little sugar in there too." He winks at me boyishly.

I place my glass on the table too, and snuggle into Edward's embrace. My eyes come back to the old grandfather clock. The fire casts its glow onto the room just enough for me to see the dark hands against the pale clock face. I watch the pendulum swing back and forth in the even rhythm at odds with the sporadic flicker of the fire light.

Time is constant and inevitable. It is entirely regular and inexorable in its passing. And yet, when you're happy, it seems to disappear – large chunks of time simply gone, or merging as one with other memories of similar days, similar smiles, and the ever so familiar warmth of Edward beneath me. And even a quiet evening in front of a seemingly innocuous open fire, in a seemingly insignificant cabin can change your life forever when you share it with the one you love. I move my hand to draw up the blanket further over us and my new ring catches the firelight. I smile; a large smile that both hurts my cheeks and resonates deep within me.

I wonder if he knew how I would feel once I was wearing his ring? I like the way it feels on my hand. It is a tangible symbol of our love and our promise. I wonder if he knew how it would quell my fears? How much it would make me want to marry him? He probably did. Sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself.

I've never been one for New Year resolutions. I can't help but reflect on the changes this last year has brought though. New Year, new me? No, Not that. I am the same little old me, but I have grown, and my comfort zone lies in tatters behind me. Not bad work for a year I would say. The smile stays on my lips as I think about all the things I might accomplish in the next one with Edward at my side. Maybe, I might even get married.

 **THE END**

 **Thanks so much for reading! I have really enjoyed writing this story and am sad to see it end, but here it is. There is a brief epilogue to follow next week and at some point in the future I plan to write an outtake. I've started writing an original fic and am planning on posting it online too.**

 **Huge thanks to songster as always. I couldn't have done it without you!**

 **Rhian**

 **xx**


	36. Epilogue

**New Year, New Me**

 **No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters for some fun.**

 **o0o**

 **Epilogue**

Betsy sits on her porch steps enjoying the breeze and the warm summer air. She smells the sweet scent of lilac blowing her way from the tree at the end of her little garden. She loves the peace.

She hears the mail truck long before she sees it coming along the road. Often it drives on past as her bills are mostly online, but today he pulls up outside her gate. It's Embry. Her heart flutters when she sees him.

"Morning, Embry," she greets him as he walks up her path.

He glances at his watch. "Afternoon, I'll think you'll find." His smile is broad, his cheeks pink even through his tan skin, and her heart reacts again. He hands her a single postcard.

"Thank you," she says returning his smile.

"How have you been keeping?"

"I'm good, thanks. I was just taking a break from baking." She gestures behind her at the open door of her kitchen. "The brownies went down well last year, so I'm making a few batches."

His smile turns mischievous as he nods towards her. "I would have guessed it was brownies."

She follows his gaze to see chocolate smeared on her apron, and laughs. "I never was a neat baker. But I guess it's about the taste." She shrugs and returns his smile.

"It sure is."

"Are you coming?" she asks. She's baking for a charity bake sale at the local church tomorrow.

"I wouldn't miss your brownies for the world. They're the best I've ever had. Though"—he leans in conspiratorially and lowers his voice—"don't tell my mom I said so. My life wouldn't be worth living. She still hasn't come to terms with my moving out yet."

She laughs again. She loves how freely she laughs with Embry. "Haven't you had your own place for years?"

"Eight. The trials and tribulations of having an overbearing mother." He rolls his eyes and lets out a world weary sigh. But the twinkle is back in his eye as he winks at her and says, "I guess I better get back to it. I'll see you tomorrow." He waves as he walks away, and she watches his retreating form and eventually the retreating truck as he drives out of sight.

She looks down at the postcard in her hand. It is a beautiful scene with a craggy cliff-face at the side of a deep blue-green sea. The sun is setting in the background, and on top of the cliff there are multicolored houses. It reads Manarola, Italy. She knows who it is from before turning it over.

She rarely thinks about her life before she was Betsy. She closed the door on that life absolutely when she moved here. She had no reason to go, no one chasing her, but for once in her life she wanted to have the courage to stand by her convictions and see her plan to leave through. It was an important – no vital – symbol of how her life would be from then on.

Betsy was the name of her main rehab nurse; a fiery and single-minded woman who gave her the strength to stand when she had no strength of her own. She felt the name was fitting for her fresh start. She isn't fiery, but she is determined.

This, however, is the one connection that she's maintained through the years, and she always looks forward to a postcard, a phone call, or sometimes a letter with photos of the children. They're such beautiful children. They get their auburn hair from their father, but their eyes are their mom's for sure. She turns over the card and recognizes the handwriting as she knew she would. She reads it slowly, savoring the words.

 _Dear Betsy!_

 _So happy to get your postcard from Toronto – it sounded like a wonderful tour of the North East! I can't tell you how happy it makes me. Has Embry asked you out yet? If not, you need to ask him – it is the twenty-first century ;)_

Betsy pauses to chuckle to herself. She must find the nerve sometime soon, she thinks.

 _Italy is beautiful. The food is so good! I swear I am going to go home two dress sizes bigger. Edward and the kids send their love. Perhaps we can do Thanksgiving together this year? It would be lovely to see you._

 _Much love, Bella xx_

The glow the affection in the postcard creates stays on her face for a long time that day. Life can be so very good.

 **Thanks so much for reading this story! It has been a wonderful process that started in January and I cannot believe that it is now complete. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read and review – it makes me so happy to read your opinions.**

 **Particular thanks to songster for editing this story. My commas are atrocious and my Brit speak was in need of quelling, amongst many other things! I know that it takes a hell of a lot of time and commitment to edit, and I thank you dearly.**

 **Rhian**

 **xx**


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